


Hisingsängeln

by suchanadorer



Category: Original Work, Supernatural
Genre: Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 20:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweden is a great place to be a monster looking to lead a “normal” life. Fists in their pockets, eyes fixed in the middle distance, your average Swede might be able to put two and two together, but they’re so firmly rooted in reality that they’d never believe it, and they’d never invade your privacy enough to ask. This is dependent on a certain amount of discretion, however, and if any monster steps out of line, Apadiel is there to make sure it never happens again, one way or another.</p><p>But her anonymity is challenged by the “global meteor storm” that sends her brothers and sisters hurtling down to Earth. Shifters and djinn can blend in, but angels that crash land in the center of the city are a lot harder to ignore. Some of them want to take back Heaven. Some want to create a new life on Earth, but even that idea comes in different shapes, not all of them peaceful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The fastest way from Eketrägatan to Eriksberg is one long hill, a curve that passes a nursing home and the Volvo plant’s barbed-wire topped walls, followed by a straight shot past the cemetery and the parish for the nearby church. The river is hidden by buildings and trees, but it’s there, at the bottom of the hill, snaking its way through the city on its way out to the Atlantic. 

Marie and Apadiel are not necessarily interested in the fastest way back to Apadiel’s apartment, but when they come up the stairs to find that the next bus leaves in twenty minutes, they put the dark, empty bus stop behind them and start walking. The night is warm and calm, and they could both do with some stress relief after a trying evening.

“These meetings always run so long,” Marie sighs, swinging her arms in exaggerated arcs as the spray painted facade of the nursing home recedes into the trees to disappear behind the bend in the road.

“They never shut up,” Apadiel agrees after a moment. “How can he possibly be so completely opposed to every single idea she has? You’d think statistically, they’d have to agree on something sooner or later.”

The choir board are nice people, but with varied opinions about how the thing should be run, and Apadiel has a tendency to lose patience with their endless, small arguments.

Marie pushes a hand back through her hair and nods. Her thick black hair is cut shorter in the back than in the front, so the gesture serves only to temporarily clear the hair out of her face before the breeze following them tosses it forward again. 

The graveyard is quiet and peaceful on their right, obscured by fencing and rustling hedges, allowing the dead and their visitors a measure of peace so close to a heavily-trafficked road. There are still some lights on in the yellow and white houses on the other side of the street, but the road is deserted. The only sounds are the clack of their heels on the pavement and the half-hearted bark of a small dog.

Marie glances at Apadiel and smiles. “They’re strong-willed, and they just want the best for the choir.”

Apadiel grins and shakes her head. “They’ve seen too many happy movies where the woefully underperforming choir takes in a superstar and suddenly they’re all capable of perfect pitch and rhythm.”

Their shadows – Marie’s, short and slender; Apadiel’s, tall and curvy – move in time-lapse circles around them as they pass from street lamp to street lamp. Marie struggles to keep up. Apadiel walks everywhere like she’s walking into battle. 

“They just want us to be challenged,” Marie replies breathlessly. “At least, within the bounds of what’s economically feasible.”

“You really think those repertoire suggestions were the best they could do?” Apadiel asks, unimpressed. “Like picking the best bits out of Fuffens’ litter box, but okay.”

Marie rolls her eyes, impervious to Apadiel’s muttering. “Could you slow down?” She gasps. “We’re not in that much of a hurry, and these shoes are impossible.”

“No one made you wear heels,” Apadiel says, not without affection. 

“Had I known we’d be walking back, I wouldn’t have,” she grumbles in response.

Apadiel pauses and waits for Marie to catch up, then starts walking again, slower this time, turning her head to make sure Marie stays beside her. She’s anxious to get back to her apartment, wary of something she can’t put her finger on. 

“You’re not normally one to complain about a party, anyway,” Marie says, watching Apadiel out of the corner of her eye. “You okay?”

“That was many things, but it was not a party. I just want to get home,” Apadiel says, looking up towards the sky. Harmless clouds blot out a few stars, but the evening is otherwise clear, the sun still not completely hidden beyond the horizon.

“Padi,” Marie pushes, “what is it?” She stops and grabs Apadiel’s wrist, turning her around so they’re facing each other.

Apadiel looks away. Her expression is thoughtful, pale green eyes watching a car wind its way through the roundabout at the bottom of the hill.

“I don’t know,” she answers quietly, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “It’s a feeling. Bad. I’ve had a headache all day.” She rubs at her temple and blinks slowly. It’s not a lie, but until she can understand it herself, she won’t try to explain it to Marie.

“You were quiet tonight,” Marie agrees. She watches Apadiel for a moment, then sets off again without letting go of her wrist. “Let’s get you home.”

“You didn’t have to come home with me,” Apadiel reminds her.

Marie shrugs. “Bahar works nights this week, and I don’t like being home alone.”

This time it’s Apadiel’s turn to roll her eyes fondly. “You’re in your apartment two days a month, Marie. You’re either out in Kortedala with your girlfriend or at my place. Why do you even have an apartment?”

“Two days a month, I need to get away from both of you,” Marie replies, closing the subject for discussion, though she’s smiling. 

They walk in companionable silence for a while. The breeze teases at the bottom of Marie’s skirt and tugs at the corners of Apadiel’s coat, urging them homeward. The shopping center at the bottom of the hill looms larger and larger, still brightly lit despite the late hour. The cleaning crew is busy inside the burger place on the corner, but the rest of the windows– the bank, the grocery store– are all dark.

They take a shortcut straight across the parking lot, weaving between the few parked cars that remain overnight.

Their quiet discussion of the merits of performing in a concert hall is interrupted when something streaks across the sky to disappear down beyond the horizon. Marie smiles and bumps against Apadiel’s arm.

“Make a wish,” she says quietly. When Apadiel doesn’t respond, she turns to look at her, her smile fading.

Apadiel is unnaturally stiff. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and when another meteor flashes past, she flinches, clutching at her temples before sinking to her knees.

“Padi?” Marie says, startled. “Padi, look at me. What is it?” She asks when Apadiel still doesn’t answer.

Apadiel shakes her head, dishwater blonde hair falling down to cover her hands and face. She sucks in deep breaths, fighting back sobs as a ball of panic lodges itself in her throat, pressing out until she can barely draw a breath.

“Talk to me!” Marie shouts, starting to panic. She looks away over the parking lot. There is no one else close by. Another meteor passes, and Apadiel reaches out, fisting her hand in Marie’s skirt.

“They’re screaming,” Apadiel hisses. “All of them.”

Marie looks down to see Apadiel more broken and frightened than she’s ever seen her. Her face is grimly pale, her eyes wide and fearful.

Apadiel struggles to her feet, using Marie for balance. Marie does her best to help, swaying under Apadiel’s weight as she regains her footing. She’s more than head shorter than Apadiel, but strong enough to stabilize her until they can both stand on their own. Apadiel keeps a hand on her shoulder while they both scan the sky. 

There are more meteors raining down over the city. Clouds flash where they punch through, and a couple even appear to burn up and explode overhead. Voices cry out in Apadiel’s head, and every passing light seems to tug at her, trying her draw her along with them, up into the sky only to drop her again. They are laced with fear, pain, and confusion.

Apadiel starts off towards the bridge that will lead them back to her apartment, and Marie hurries to catch her. After a few steps Apadiel breaks into a run, unable to ignore the sense of urgency that wells up inside her. Marie curses under her breath and steps out of her heels, sprinting barefoot across the parking lot.

“What is it?” She shouts at Apadiel crosses the street. Marie is used to having to keep up with her at a run and catches up easily at the bottom of the bridge.

Apadiel goes down to one knee again, crying out in pain as a meteor passes directly above them. She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. Marie’s hands move over Apadiel’s arms and shoulders, unsure where to touch her or how to help as she oscillates between looking down at Apadiel and up at the sky.

This time Marie gets a good look. It’s shaped like a person with wings, until there aren’t wings anymore. They vanish as she watches, burning away before the figure disappears behind the row of apartment buildings.

There is a crash, and lights start to turn on in the houses. A car alarm blares to life at the end of the road.

“Help me up,” Apadiel croaks. Marie hooks an arm around her waist and hauls her to her feet as best she can. Apadiel’s eyes are feral as she sets off towards the harbor.

“Apadiel, what are they?” Marie demands, not moving from where she stands. She’s been led on all kinds of chases over the last six years, but nothing has ever shaken her friend this badly and she will not go on without knowing what they’re rushing to face.

Apadiel turns to look back at her. “Angels.” Her voice is harsh and wet, like she’s fighting to keep from crying. “I don’t know why, but it’s angels. Falling. All of them. And they are all screaming, and I can hear it.”

Her voice breaks and she covers her mouth her hand as a thin sob catches in her throat. Marie steps towards her but Apadiel holds a hand out, waving her off.

Marie has a thousand questions, but there will be time for those later. She takes a deep breath and nods. “What do we do?” She asks.

Apadiel nods slowly, collecting herself again, then gives a shaky laugh. “That’s my girl.”

She turns back towards the harbor and starts walking, letting Marie catch up before picking up the pace again.

“One of them landed in Sannegårdshamnen,” Apadiel explains. “We have to go get it.”

Her voice is full of renewed purpose as she jogs towards the water. She sounds more confident than she feels, but she can see no alternative that she could live with.

The house on their left is a blur of wrought-iron balconies and decorative tiling as they hurry past; the park and hill opposite are deserted.

The street ends in a dead end that opens up to the harbor. Broken glass litters the pavement, sparkling in the light thrown from the buildings surrounding them. Apadiel says a silent thank you when she sees that so far no one has ventured out to look, so they are met with dozens of empty steel balconies and the sound and smell of water. 

Sannegårdshamnen is a narrow, man-made harbor that curves away from the river. This time of year it's lined with everything from small motorboats to impressive five-meter sailboats, and all of them are bobbing lazily in the choppy water created by the crash landing.

From where they have come out, they can see the harbor opening. Apadiel turns and gazes at the city across the river. Flaming forms punch holes in the night sky, igniting clouds as they fall through to disappear between buildings and off towards the horizon.

"They hit the water in the harbor,” Apadiel explains. “They should be okay, but we gotta hurry. These bodies don't do well underwater."

Marie whimpers, pulling Apadiel from where her eyes are fixed on the city.

"I don't know who they are, what kind of vessel they found,” Apadiel continues as she walks. “They could be a man, a woman, something else. We'll have to see."

Some of the balconies along the waterfront are glassed in to serve as extra rooms. Or at least, they used to be. Now glass crunches under Apadiel’s boots as she crosses the sidewalk towards the water. The knot in her stomach twists and tightens at the silence coming from the form under the surface. This angel is not screaming.

There is a glowing mass in the center of the harbor. The water above it froths and foams. Apadiel leaves Marie, taking the steps quickly down onto one of the boat docks, swaying when it rocks beneath her feet.

Marie stays on the concrete shore. Her eyes and huge and dark, and her arms are wrapped tight around her body. She shakes her head slowly, then more and more frantically, her eyes flitting from Apadiel to the water and back.

Apadiel unzips her boots, only then looking back to where Marie is standing, terrified and frozen. Realization hits her, and she takes the stairs two at a time to get back to her.

"I’m so sorry," Apadiel says, turning Marie away from the water and leading her to a bench. "Here, sit. Sit, and look at me. I'm here, don't think about the water, just look at me."

Marie looks up at her, clinging to her upper arms with a grip so hard her knuckles go white. She gasps in huge breaths of air and sinks bonelessly down onto the bench. She leaves red streaks on the sidewalk where she’s stepped on glass.

"Don't go in the water," Marie begs. Her voice is soft and shaky. She swallows, and swallows again, trembling despite the warm evening.

"It's going to be fine," Apadiel says, doing her best to keep her voice steady. Marie starts to turn her head back towards the harbor but Apadiel reaches out and stops her, gently pushing with two fingers on her jawbone. "Don't look at the water. Look at me."

Marie nods, letting go of Apadiel's arm to push her hair back out of her face.

"This water can't hurt you,” Apadiel says. “I'm going to be here the whole time. You don't have to watch me, but I am going to be here. I will go as fast as I can, and you know that I will come back. I always come back, right?"

"You always come back," Marie repeats distractedly.

"There's my girl," Apadiel says. She rises slowly to her feet and kisses Marie's forehead before stripping off her coat and draping it over Marie’s shoulders. "I’ll be back for this," she whispers before moving away towards the dock again.

The frothing has calmed enough that Apadiel can make out a shape. The water is murky and giving off a dank, dead smell consistent with its history as a coal harbor. She frowns, scoops up the large, green pendant hanging low around her neck and dumps the jewel unceremoniously inside her collar, giving it a little more protection from the water before she hops off the end of the dock.

It's cool enough to make her cough. She makes it to the center in a couple of swift strokes, grimaces one last time, then plunges underwater.

It’s dark, but the glow makes the angel easy to find. It's a man lying on the bottom, with dark skin and hair. He looks young, strong and tall, but now he's unmoving. Apadiel kicks down once and grabs his wrist where his arm floats limply above his body.

His eyes open and blue-white light blazes out of them. Apadiel shies back but doesn't let go. His hand tightens around her wrist and she feels the crackle of Grace against her skin, dulling the panic that threatens her again. Something long-buried ignites, tries to bubble up inside her, but she pushes it down for now, focusing on the task at hand, hauling him up off the bottom and dragging them both back to the surface.

Breathing is a habit she's gotten used to, and the air feels good in her lungs when she comes up. She hooks her arm around the chest of the lifeless man and swims back to the pier.

"Wake up," she growls, pushing her wet hair out of her face. "Come on, help me out here."

But he resists, a dead weight in her arms despite open eyes that still radiate light.

She braces herself and lurches both of them up out of the water, pulling her body completely up onto the dock before turning and dragging him the rest of the way. He lands face down, and she can see there are two large holes burned into the back of t-shirt, though the skin of his back is undamaged.

Apadiel rolls him onto his back, and he coughs, sputtering and belching water out over his cheeks and chin.

"Marie, I'm out! I'm okay!" She shouts. "I'll be there in a minute."

She looks, and can see Marie’s tiny, dark shape still huddled on the bench.

"Dammit,” Apadiel mutters under her breath. “I can't carry you both home. You gotta wake up."

She casts a furtive glance around at the balconies nearby. Now there are people, but most of them are on the other side of the river, or too far away get a good look at what’s going on. Apadiel has no interest in winding up on the splash page of an internet newspaper because someone sent her photo to a tip line.

Apadiel closes her eyes and holds a hand over his chest. His muscles go taught and his body bows, glowing under a light coming from her hand. His back arches up off the dock, only to land with a wet thud a moment later. He gasps in a deep breath and the light fades from his eyes, changing to a dark color that looks back at her in the gloom.

"You–" he starts. He looks her over and realization dawns on his face. "You're a–"

"Not now," she cuts him off, chopping the air with her hand. "Later, sure, but not now. Get up."

He frowns and struggles to his feet, brushing his hands over his soaking wet clothes. "I survived. I'm... I fell." He pats at his chest and legs experimentally, and for a split second Apadiel feels sorry for him.

The angel twists, trying to look at his back. He turns almost a full circle before he stops, hurrying to catch up with Apadiel where she's climbing the stairs to leave the dock.

"You can't just leave me!" He protests.

"Then keep up," she replies back over her shoulder, unable to bring herself to turn and look at him.

Marie is sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking gently on the bench. Her eyes widen and she launches herself at Apadiel when she sees her.

"You're soaked!" Marie protests, and Apadiel nods, hugging her back.

"We got company," she says, nodding in the newcomer's direction. "We gotta get home. Come on. Can you walk?”

Marie looks down, only now taking in the damage done to her feet. Blood streaks the bench, and her shoes are nowhere to be seen.

“Here.” Apadiel sets her down on the bench and turns around. “Climb on. I’ll carry you.”

Marie grunts, but accepts the offer, slinging her arms around Apadiel’s neck. She’s a warm, comforting weight against her back, wearing Apadiel’s coat even though it’s easily three sizes too large for her. Apadiel hooks her elbows under Marie’s knees and lifts, carrying her piggy-back away from the harbor.

Marie and Apadiel walk in front with the other angel trailing behind. He stops often, looking up at the sky, down at his hands, or out over the water. The shower of falling angels seems to have abated, but he still glances up anxiously at the sky before rushing to catch them again.

“How’s your head?” Marie whispers, glancing over at the stranger. 

“Hurts,” Apadiel replies. “But it’s quieter.”

“Is that good?” 

Apadiel shrugs and Marie bounces against her. She can feel Marie shifting to look at the angel time and again, but Apadiel refuses to look at him. She’s still not sure this was the right decision, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.

Eriksberg is no longer the newest neighborhood on the northern river bank. Some of its exclusivity has worn off as the buildings have aged and houses have filled in around houses. The facades along the water are a mix of brick, cream, and coral colors. A wooden walkway decorated with stone sculptures serves as a boardwalk, home to sunbathers and tourists during the summer, and the iconic crane looms in the distance, bathed in colored lights. This time of night the boardwalk is empty, without even a late-night jogger or dog-walker to meet them on their path.

Apadiel’s apartment is in one of the older buildings, a four-story U-shaped house with a central courtyard and balconies facing the river. There are lights on in most of the windows when they arrive, but they are not bothered on their way into the building.

The elevator ride is silent and uncomfortable. They are a motley crew reflected in the elevator’s mirrored wall. Apadiel and the other angel are soaked to the skin, while Marie has all but disappeared into Apadiel’s blue frock coat where she stands next to her. Apadiel is half a head taller than the other angel, even with her boots in her hand. Marie rests one foot on top of the other, wincing in pain. The angel stares openly at Apadiel, who keeps her eyes fixed on her own reflection and her hand firmly in Marie's grip.

The elevator shudders to a halt and they trail out into the hallway.

"Stop right there," she says when the angel moves to follow her inside her apartment. "Marie, with me. You wait here." She clearly enunciates the last three words, watching him as she closes the door to leave him standing in the hall.

Apadiel slumps against the closed door and closes her eyes. She breathes deeply for a moment, and when she opens her eyes they are full of determination and focus.

Marie disappears into the bathroom while Apadiel begins removing framed art from her hallway. Her apartment is warded against almost everything, including angels, and if she’s going to bring him in then she needs to make sure that he won’t disappear as soon as he’s through the door.

Out of context, the framed symbols look like minimalist art. Visitors have admired them before, but now she collects them in an uneven stack and sets them on a shelf in her closet, regarding them with a sense of foreboding.

Marie meets her in the hallway, her feet now covered by a pair of fluffy knit socks. She is followed by an enormous silver cat that yowls a greeting before trotting towards Apadiel. He’s more fur than cat, with a black stripe that runs the length of his back and streaks out over his sides, whiskers that emphasize his life of luxury, and wide-set eyes that give him an expression of earnest curiosity.

He winds his way in behind Apadiel, his impossibly long tail wrapping itself around her calf as he circles her feet, whining.

“Yes, hi, hello Fuffens,” she says impatiently as he purrs and rubs himself against her wet jeans. “Yes, I missed you too, but we’re kind of busy right now.”

Fuffens makes his way to Marie next, giving her the same treatment, complete with scolding for having let him alone for so long.

“Hello little prince,” Marie coos, sinking down to scratch the side of his jaw and up behind his ear. “Have you missed me?”

He stretches out his neck and purrs as if in response, and Marie smiles before turning her attention back to Apadiel.

“How are your feet?” Apadiel asks. 

Marie looks down at them and shrugs. “They hurt, but I’ll be fine.”

Apadiel tilts her head to the side and smiles. She reaches out and cups Marie’s cheek, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone.

Marie’s eyes go wide, and she sighs heavily.

“You could’ve done that at the harbor,” she says, flexing her toes.

“Maybe I wanted to carry you,” Apadiel replies with a smile.

Marie nods towards the door. “Are you really going to bring him in here?” She asks.

“Well, I can’t just leave him out in the hall,” Apadiel replies flatly. No amusement registers in Marie’s expression, so Apadiel sighs and moves towards the door. She looks out through the peephole as she talks. “I need to know what happened, and he’s the only key I have. I don’t have a choice.”

She opens the door slowly. The angel is still standing in the hallway, staring dumbly out the window. He sways a bit where he stands, surrounded by droplets of water, and Apadiel feels a stab of sympathy for him, remembering the shape she was in when she first arrived. If Marie hadn’t been there…

Now it was her turn.

“C’mere,” she says, motioning him inside. He turns his head, his body following after a moment. It’s an unnatural movement, precise and controlled.

A path of towels leads from the doorway to the bathroom on the left side of the brightly painted hallway.

"Walk on those,” Apadiel instructs, pointing at the towels. “When you get in there, take everything off, dry off, and put on the robe that's hanging in there."

The angel nods and gingerly follows the path. Apadiel watches him, closing the door after him before hurrying into her bedroom with Marie close behind. Fuffens raises his head where he was sleeping on her bed. He stretches lazily and sits up to watch them.

Apadiel discards her own wet clothing onto her bed and digs through drawers, pulling out a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. She's quiet while she dresses, facing away from Marie.

"Padi?" Marie says quietly. Apadiel stills, but even in the darkness of the room Marie can see that she is trembling. Her body jerks once as a single, sharp sob escapes from her.

Marie steps towards her, but Apadiel holds up a hand to stop her. She straightens, wiping at her eyes and taking a deep breath before turning around. Her eyes are wet, and her expression is grave.

"I don't know what's powerful enough to do this,” Apadiel starts.

Marie nods once. 

" _Me_ , Marie. _I_ don't know. What kind of thing can just throw angels out of Heaven, now that God's gone?"

Marie's expression turns stormy and she opens her mouth to speak.

Apadiel interrupts her. "I know you don't like me saying that, but that doesn't make it less true. I'm sorry, but He's gone."

Marie closes her mouth again and drags a hand over her face. It’s a discussion they’ve had before, but tonight is not the night to have it again.

"What do we do?" Marie asks, lowering herself down onto the corner of the bed. Fuffens comes up behind her, head-butting her elbow indiscreetly until she lifts her arm for him to walk under.

Apadiel gives her a wavering smile, unable to muster so much as an expression of feigned confidence.

“No idea," she says.

Marie starts to smile back at her, but falters. "Hey, I'm sorry about before, about the..."

"No, sweetheart,” Apadiel says, shaking her head gently, “don't apologize. It's okay. You never have to apologize for being afraid."

Marie ducks her head. "I should've helped."

"Nah, you shouldn't have," Apadiel replies. She plucks at a lock of her hair, crossing her eyes and frowning at it. "That water was nasty. I'm gonna stink for days."

There's a sound outside her door, and they both stiffen.

"What do we do now?" Marie repeats, glancing from Apadiel to the closed door.

Apadiel shrugs, resignation heavy on her shoulders. "Talk to him, I guess. He was there, maybe he knows what happened. I need to know what did this."

She swings open the door to her bedroom and steps out, curiosity winning out over the doubt that runs through her mind. Fuffens trots ahead of her, hopping up onto the couch and eying the newcomer from a distance.

The angel is standing by the windows, still staring up at the sky. 

Apadiel clears her throat, and he turns. He’s not as young as she'd initially thought, with a mop of tightly-curled black hair and long lashes around his dark eyes. His expression is frightened, but also tired.

"They all fell. Every one of them."

It’s all he manages by way of explanation before collapsing. Marie rushes forward, catching his shoulders to keep him from hitting his head on the floor. She looks back towards Apadiel.

“He’s out cold,” she says. Her eyes sweep the room. “Where do we put him?”

Apadiel rubs at her forehead, then strides across the room to where Marie is still holding the unconscious angel. Part of her is relieved that she can put off the conversation, but she is also frustrated at being forced to wait.

She scoops him up like a child and carries him into her bedroom, laying him out on the bed. He doesn’t so much as shift once she slips her arms out from underneath his body.

She stands and considers the angel for a moment. She’s curious, but also wary. Angels do not fall without a reason, and while the screaming in her head has stopped, she can still hear whispers and cries. Whatever has happened, it’s happened everywhere. He could tell her, but not until he wakes up. If he wakes up.

He could tell her so much, but part of her still wants him a thousand miles away from her home.

Marie waits for Apadiel to come back out. She’s leaning against the back of the couch, staring off into space. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus when she finally looks at Apadiel.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” She licks her lips, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t,” Apadiel replies. She moves to stand in front of Marie, who leans in against her body.

“Can I still stay?” Marie asks. “I can go if you want.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” Apadiel replies. “You can have the sofa.”

Marie gives her a quick squeeze of a hug, then rounds the end of the couch. She stretches out on it still fully dressed, watching Apadiel from under heavy lids as she drapes the blanket over her.

"Padi, all those angels,” she breathes. “What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know. I haven't heard them in years,centuries." Apadiel brushes her fingers over her temple. She sucks in a deep breath and blows it out through her nose. "I thought my antenna got snapped off in Hell."

"Guess not," Marie replies. "Are they really falling? Like–"

 _Like you fell_. It hangs in the room unsaid.

Apadiel shrugs again, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't know. I do know I don’t want them here. I don't care if or how they fell. Did they have to fall here? Why did they have to fall here?"

She leans heavily on the back of the couch, looking down at Marie. Fuffens jumps up and bumps his head affectionately against her arm until she pets him.

"Can you help them?" Marie asks.

"Maybe, but why?" Apadiel snaps. There's more pain in her voice than she'd like.

Marie just watches her in the dim light of the room. Apadiel stares back. Her eyes are stony and glistening, but they soften as Marie holds her gaze.

“What help did they ever give me?” she asks, pointing back towards her bedroom.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” Marie says softly. “But think about it. Please.”

Apadiel glares out into the night, but can’t hold her resolve. Her shoulders droop, and her jaw twitches. She is defeated.

Apadiel sinks down into the armchair beside the couch. Marie falls asleep almost instantly, and for a while Apadiel concentrates on her, counting her breaths and heartbeats as a way of drowning out the angel radio in her head. 

When it stops working, she picks up her phone and chooses a playlist at random, listening to music until sunrise, trying to drown out the cries and keep her mind from picking open old wounds that should have healed over long ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Apadiel’s eyes are closed but she’s not sleeping. She doesn’t always need to sleep, and last night it would have been impossible. She stirs when she hears Marie moving around the apartment. The sun is already high, filling the apartment with light that makes the white wallpaper almost glow. The smell of coffee fills the apartment. They share a long look, and Marie promises to call before heading out the door.

Apadiel pours herself a cup of coffee before going to her bedroom, watching the dark liquid whirl slowly around in the mug as if she can avoid last night’s events by not facing them. She stays in the kitchen as long as she can, taking her coffee with her when she finally gives in and goes to her bedroom

She finds Fuffens piled onto the pillow beside the still-unconscious angel. He chirps a greeting to her when she comes into the room, lifting his head from his immense paws.

“We’re not keeping him,” Apadiel says. Fuffens lowers his head again and stretches a paw towards the sleeping figure as if to lay claim to him.

The angels in her head are much quieter now, whispers that she feels like she could see if only she could turn her head fast enough. It fills her with dread rather than any sense of comfort. Angels without vessels will communicate that way, but once they’ve found their way into a body, they don’t need to send messages.

Apadiel spends the morning absorbing as much information as possible, trying to prepare for whatever will meet her when she heads into the city. She paces the length of her apartment, peeling and eating an orange. Food, like sleep, is not a necessity, but Apadiel likes to eat, and the methodic peeling and separating of the orange gives her hands something to do.

The television blares from its spot mounted on the wall. She channel-surfs, taking in the news on every channel. The reports are the same on all of them: an inexplicable meteor shower that seems to have taken the planet by surprise.

"That’s really what they’re telling people," she muses as footage from around the world plays in a montage on the screen while a BBC reporter urges calm. "And people are just going to believe it."

Fuffens joins her for breakfast, providing no help whatsoever. He stations himself in the middle of the hallway, outside the bedroom door, and watches her pace with his tail wrapped around his paws like a piece of Egyptian art. Only his twitching ears give any indication that he’s still keeping track of the stranger.

Apadiel switches to the local news and stands for a moment, watching the footage of the destruction. A huge, smoking pothole in the road outside Nordstan. A hole punched into a roof in Haga, the building now on the verge of collapse. Twenty meters of burned and broken pavement in Linnéstaden. A derailed tram lies helplessly on its side at Järntorget, but so far there are no blurry cell phone videos of a blonde diving into Sannegårdshamnen to rescue a glowing man from the water. Apadiel breathes out before muting the television and turning away.

She showers and dresses in jeans and a black t-shirt with a large, glittery cross on the front, accented by the large emerald pendant that she never takes off. Apadiel’s wardrobe is filled with religious and angelic imagery, something that Marie had found endlessly amusing. She used to buy her tops and earrings that looked like wings as gifts. Now Apadiel finds them on her own.

She pads barefoot out of the bathroom, casting glances at the angel as she digs through a drawer for a pair of socks.

"Who are you?" she mutters to the sleeping form in her bed. "How did you all get down here? And how do I get you all out of here as fast as possible?"

When he continues to show no sign of life, she writes a note with her cell phone number and leaves her cordless phone lying on top of it. 

“I’ll be back later,” she tells Fuffens when he follows her to the door. “Keep an eye on him, but don’t go making friends. He’s not staying.”

Giving him a last look, she pulls on her shoes and heads out of her apartment. She hesitates for a moment outside the locked door, but she won’t do anyone any good staying at home and waiting for him to wake up. Lots of angels fell last night, and if he can’t tell her what happened, maybe one of them can. 

The automated sign at the bus stop tells Apadiel that the mainline bus is not running its usual route today because something tore up the park adjacent to Vasaplatsen, but it gets her close enough that she can play casual rubbernecker along the police line. She tucks her hands in her pockets and traces the broken foliage and toppled monolith, looking for the ashen outline of wings to tell her if the angel that landed here survived the fall. She doesn’t see any, but that offers her no relief.

"Please, you've gotta listen to me!" a woman cries, grabbing at an officer's arm. "There was a woman in there! You have to have to come help her!"

The police officer gives her a put upon sigh and plucks her bony hand from his arm. "Look, ma'am, we told you. There was no one there when we arrived at the scene."

"She had wings!" The woman protests, and Apadiel turns her attention towards the pair of them, elbowing her way through the crowd.

An older woman with hair piled in a messy bun is arguing with the young police officer. She's wearing a long duster and a pair of high-waisted jeans. There's blood on the cuff of the sweater, and Apadiel sighs inwardly as the office continues to brush her off. They continue to argue while a small white dog jumps and barks excitedly around their feet.

Apadiel straightens her shoulders and steps through the people that have started to gather around the two of them. Her face is a perfect mask of polite concern when she approaches them.

"I’m so glad I found you," Apadiel starts, covering the woman's hand with her own and prying it from the police officer's sleeve again. "I went to your apartment and you weren’t there! I got so worried."

"Who are you?" The woman asks, eyes searching Apadiel's face.

Apadiel looks at her sympathetically, then looks at the officer. "I'm her neighbor. I'm sorry about this; she gets confused sometimes. I wasn't home last night, but when I saw what happened I came as soon as I could. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just an accident," the office replies, looking back at the crash site. "No one was hurt. That meteor shower last night, y’know."

"Yes they were!" The woman protests, but Apadiel speaks over her.

"Good. Good, I'm glad to hear that. Now you," Apadiel says, fixing her eyes on the woman. "Why don't you take me up to your apartment. I'll make tea and you can tell me all about it. It must have been quite an ordeal for you."

She does her best to make her expression one that will convince the woman, but it doesn't help.

"No! What?" She argues, pulling her hand out of Apadiel's grip. "I don't know you!"

"Yes, you do," Apadiel reassures her. She pulls the woman into a tight embrace and leans down close to the her ear. "I believe you, and I can help,” she whispers. “Take me to your apartment and tell me everything.” 

The woman glances at the police officer again, clearly still nervous, before nodding stiffly. "Yes, okay. Tea. Come on."

She sets off towards her building with her dog in tow and Apadiel trails after, flashing the officer a polite grin before crossing the street.

They climb the stairs in silence, but as soon as the woman stops outside her door, she turns to face Apadiel. Her face is grave.

"If you're trying to rob me, I have nothing worth stealing."

Apadiel gives her a small smile. "I promise I'm not. I really want to hear about the woman with wings. My name’s Padi,” she says, extending her hand.

The woman looks at it warily before taking it in a surprisingly firm grip. “My name’s Birgitta. And I could tell you, but I think it’s better that I show you.”

Birgitta continues to talk as she unlocks her door. "I went down there last night, before the police arrived, and I pulled her out and helped her back up here."

Apadiel's eyes go wide and she fights the urge to push past the woman into her apartment.

The door swings open and the older woman steps inside. It's a small space with walls painted in pastel colors. Bright morning light bleaches everything it touches, and chandelier hanging above the dining table explodes with a thousand sparkling points, throwing stars onto the walls around it.

There is a trail of blood from the threshold through the apartment, leading to a door left ajar. The woman leads Apadiel into the apartment and points towards the door. Her dog has already made its way there and is sniffing at the opening, ears flat against its head.

"She's in there,” Birgitta says. “She was bleeding, so I put her in the bathtub and washed her off as best I could. That’s why I wanted the police to come up. She needs help.” There is sympathy in her voice, but also an air of suspicion. “How can you help her?”

Apadiel considers her answer. “You said she had wings?” She asks, turning away to look around the apartment.

Birgitta nods, playing with her necklace and staring at the bathroom door while she talks. “I only saw them for a second, then they were gone, and she collapsed. Said she was an angel. I thought it was a stunt until I woke up and saw the news. Do you know what happened?”

“Yes,” Apadiel replies. 

“You didn’t say how you could help her,” Birgitta asks again. “Doris, get away from the door!”

“Yeah, it’s, uhh–”

The door to the bathroom swings slowly outward, sending Doris trotting back towards Birgitta, and Apadiel pushes the woman back behind her. She can’t know how the angel will react to her new surroundings, but she’s willing to hazard a guess as to the reaction her appearance in the apartment, or on Earth at all, will receive.

"Oh, she's not dangerous," Birgitta insists, peeking out from around Apadiel's arm. "She was so tiny! You're a big girl, she can't hurt you."

"Yeah, sure," Apadiel groans.

The angel slumps against the doorframe, raising her eyes to glare at Apadiel. A three-sided silver blade dangles loosely in her grip, but when she sees Apadiel her fingers tighten around it. Her other arm hangs uselessly, the shoulder out of joint. There is a streak of blood disappearing up into her spiky brown hair, and her ankle is wrapped in a bandage.

“Traitor,” she hisses, blue eyes flaring when she catches sight of Apadiel. “Faithless!”

“Do we really have to do this now? I was gonna help you,” Apadiel sighs.

"What does she mean, 'traitor'?" Birgitta asks, pointing at the other angel. "Who are you? Is this some sort of gang thing? You don’t look like you’re in a gang.”

She looks down at Apadiel's hand and gasps. "Where did that come from?"

Apadiel glances over at the other angel, who is seething but still unable to leave the door frame. The weight of her own angel blade is heavy and cold in her hand. It feels foreign now. She uses other weapons when she hunts, but if it comes to it here, nothing else will work.

"Sorry about this," she says to Birgitta before raising two fingers to her forehead and knocking her out. Apadiel catches her around the waist and lays her gently down on the floor, out in the hallway. Doris goes to her side and sits, whimpering and watching Apadiel with huge, shining eyes.

"We don't hurt her," she says flatly. "Deal?"

"Why shouldn't I?" The angel shouts. "She refused me when I begged her for help."

“She brought you here, tried to help you.”

“This?” The angel asks, lifting her foot and sneering at the bandage. “That’s not help. I needed a vessel, and she said no.”

The angel chokes back a sob and for a moment she resembles the frightened child Apadiel knows is somewhere inside her, locked down by a furious wavelength of celestial intent.

"They don't get it, not here anyway. People here don't know about angels." Apadiel tries to explain, but she can see that it's no use.

"Suddenly you start caring about humanity," the other angel grumbles. She takes a swaying step towards Apadiel, raising her blade. "You didn't come here to help me."

"Yes I did," Apadiel says. "I know you don't believe me, but the last thing I want is dead angels littering this city."

"Well, there's about to be at least one more."

The angel straightens her back, taking a deep breath. Her eyes glow white and the shadow of wings appears on the wall behind her. One is lifted and flared out; the other lies limp on the floor, mirroring her injured arm.

The thrum of pre-fight adrenaline buzzes under Apadiel’s skin even as she tries to push it down. She had hoped to avoid a fight, and still wants to, but she’s not sure that’s possible. Hunting has kept her sharp, and she’s comforted by the idea that if she has to fight, she’ll be able to.

"Look, that's gotta hurt," Apadiel starts cautiously. "Come back to my apartment and we'll see what I can do about fixing you up, then getting you on your way."

The angel lunges forward, blade raised high and coming down in a sweeping blow towards Apadiel. She blocks it with her own blade, pushing the weaker angel back off her. The angel staggers back a few steps to regain her balance, baring her teeth and spitting blood out onto the floor. She grabs at her injured arm, hissing when it swings awkwardly.

"You don't want to do this," Apadiel says, shaking her head and holding her hand out defensively. "Let me help you, and then I can send you anywhere you want to go."

"Never,” the angel spits out. “I'm staying here until the others arrive, and then we're going home. You're the one who's leaving now, back to Hell where you belong."

The angel rushes forward again, this time giving a cry as she lashes out at Apadiel with her blade. Apadiel hops back and the sound of their blades meeting rings through the apartment. For a moment they struggle in the middle of the room, blades clashing against each other. Apadiel turns to counter the angel’s blows, looking back over her shoulder to check that the old woman is still sleeping. The angel punches her in the jaw, then hisses and pulls back, shaking her hand.

Apadiel pokes at her lip with her tongue, staring at the angel in surprise. The angel stares back, panting and flexing her bloodied hand.

"Really? A sucker punch with a bad shoulder?"

"You're a liar and a coward," the angel accuses.

"Have you been to Hell? Don't talk to me about courage until you've seen what happens to an angel's Grace in Hell."

The angel comes at her again. Apadiel counters, blocks, and finally grabs hold of the angel's wrist so she can't strike out again with her blade.

But the angel recovers quickly, twisting out of Apadiel's grip and throwing her with into the opposite wall with surprising strength, even though she lets out a cry when forced to use her injured arm. 

Apadiel grunts at the impact, her eyes going wide with fear as the angel runs at her, blade poised to spear her in the heart.

Apadiel drops to a squat as the angel reaches her, driving her own blade up under the angel's ribs. There is a soft gasp of surprise, then a brilliant light fills the room. The chandelier rattles from the shockwave, though outside in the street they will notice nothing out of the ordinary.

The angel slumps down over Apadiel. Both it and its vessel are dead, wing imprints seared into the floor and furniture. 

Apadiel pushes the body off her her as she rises up again. The room is a mess with blood and ash all over. She closes her eyes slowly.

"You should’ve let me help," she whispers as she waves her hand. When she opens her eyes again, the apartment is in perfect condition. The body is gone, as are the wings. She can't see it, but she knows that all the blood in the bathroom is also gone. She is nothing if not thorough in her cover up. 

All that's left is the angel's blade, which Apadiel takes with her. In outward appearance it is exactly like her own, but it feels wrong in her hand. There is no balance, and she can’t fit the handle comfortably in her grip. She rolls it in her hand, a feeling of loss settling over her like a fog. As she tucks the blade away, she hopes that this was an anomaly and not a sign of things to come.

She scoops the old woman up and carries her to her bedroom, laying her gently down on top of the covers. She brushes her fingers along the woman's temple again, removing her memories of the incident. All she will remember when she wakes up is that a meteor struck the park outside her apartment the night before. Apadiel leaves her sleeping in her bed, with Doris fretting quietly beside her.

She takes the stairs out of the building two at a time, setting a brisk pace away from Birgitta’s apartment and the accident scene nearby. She balls her hands into fists in her pockets, scolding herself for expecting this to be easy, or to have any chance at going smoothly.

At the corner she hesitates. It would be easy to turn right, take a back way to Vasakyrkan and hide out for the day with Marie. She could see if any angels made their way there, just as she had when she first came back to Earth. It’s tempting, the idea of hanging back and taking a passive approach. They could plan, make calls, send emails. Wait.

Apadiel shakes her head to clear it, then sets off to the left, away towards Järntorget and its derailed tram. As appealing at the thought is on the surface, she can’t bring herself to sit by and watch while angels invade Göteborg. She’d meant what she said to that angel; she wants to help them, even if it’s only to make sure that they don’t do something stupid that risks exposing them and her to the world. She’s unimpressed with the meteor shower story, but she’ll play along if it keeps her own cover safe.

The mess at Järntorget has already been cleared away. The sun leaves crisp shadows around the fountain, and when Apadiel steps up onto the edge, she sees wings flared out on the cobblestones below her.

A older man enjoying the sun looks up at her when he hears her gasp.

“Some street artist,” he explains, waving a tanned hand at the scorched silhouette. “Must’ve been out all night painting them.”

“Them?” Apadiel asks, her eyes still fixed on the wings.

The man nods. “They’re all over the city, most of ‘em where those meteors crashed down. My friend and I been taking photos, sending them to each other. Here, here, look.”

He tugs at Apadiel’s jacket and she sinks down onto the fountain beside him. Spray lands on the screen of his smartphone as he flips from photo to photo.

Nordstan. Linné. Röda Sten, covering the graffiti wall. A pair of wings broken up by the pillars that make up the base of Göta Älv Bridge. 

“He reckons there’s one on the water tower out in Bergsjön, too, but he can’t get a picture. Too high up.” He tucks the phone away in his pocket, a grin appearing in the middle of his salt-and-pepper beard. “We’re gonna sell the photos to Expressen, make some money off of it.”

Apadiel nods numbly and presses her hands flat on her knees, stretching her fingers wide to keep them from shaking.

“You okay, miss?” He asks, leaning forward to look at her.

“Yeah, it’s just the sun in my face,” she replies, filled with artificial cheer. She stands quickly, giving him a smile before turning away. “Thank you for showing me the photos,” she calls back over her shoulder. “Good luck selling them.”

Apadiel ducks into the fast food restaurant on the far side of the little square. It’s poorly lit in a way that’s supposed to be trendy, but makes it feel like a cave. The skylight above the registers does nothing to lessen the effect.

She orders a large coffee and an ice cream, because she has to order something, and tucks herself into a booth in the corner. She pops the lid off the coffee and drops a spoonful of ice cream in.

She doesn’t want to check her phone. It’s been a brick in her pocket all morning, getting heavier and heavier with the weight of unanswered calls and unchecked messages. Some hunters will have figured out what happened last night, and in turn some of those hunters will turn to Apadiel for answers. Only a small handful know what she is, but more than that have come to regard her as an authority on angels and demons.

The blob of ice cream rolls under its own weight before dissolving completely on top of the coffee as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. 

Her reflection looks back at her from the darkened screen. Her lip is still split, and a feeling of loss spreads out inside her, making her limbs heavy and her eyes dull. She can see the photos the man outside showed her, the wings of the angel she killed in the apartment earlier. She had come to terms with the idea of never seeing another angel again, and now they’re in her city. One is possibly still in her apartment, and her best plan so far is to get them all out of Göteborg as fast as possible, make them someone else’s problem.

The screen lights up with a text message in Norwegian, saying that the meteors held unkillable monsters and that she should call as soon as she can.

“How can I help when when I can’t even take care of my own problem,” she sighs, rubbing at her temple.

She sips her lukewarm coffee and tries to think. So far she’s one for three on trying to find angels, since the one in her apartment qualifies as a success as long as he stays alive. There must have been at least ten, fifteen photos in that man’s phone, all of them dead angels that didn’t survive the fall. The angel radio in her head has gone quiet again, either because they’ve all found vessels or because the ones who haven’t found them are too weak or hurt to communicate.

Apadiel has no idea how many landed in the city, but she does know how many she’s found alive so far, and how many are still alive that she can talk to. Spending the rest of the day wandering around looking for more seems like less of a plan now, but can’t just assume that every single angel died when they fell. Even after all this time, the idea still hurts too much.

The angel in her apartment is her best hope right now, and that’s a weak hope at best. She’ll start with him, later, and the thought makes her feel better. It’s not much of a foundation, but it will do. She can build on that, as long as he hasn’t died in her bed. 

She stays at the restaurant for the better part of the morning buying coffee after coffee and watching her phone blink to life with messages.


	3. Chapter 3

Apadiel pushes the door open with her hip, shopping bags swinging from both hands. Steeply slanted sun streams in through the windows, coloring the apartment a shining gold. She spent the afternoon walking the streets, searching for any sign of angelic activity, but finding no other angels, just destruction and cover stories. There were no more women crying to police officers, but that also meant no more fighting, no more killing confused and angry angels in self-defense. When the streets had begun to fill with people leaving work for the day, she’d been briefly hopeful, but no one stood out or spoke up. She’d let herself be moved along with the flow of people to the shopping mall before heading back to her apartment, feeling apprehensive both about the outcome of her day and what could be waiting for her when she arrived.

The angel is silhouetted against the windows, hands folded behind his back, looking out at the river. He's still wearing the robe from the night before. She pauses, waiting to see if he moves or reacts at all to her coming back into the apartment. She hadn’t been sure he’d even still be here, and after this morning’s confrontation she was prepared for the worst, but he doesn’t so much as turn his head, leaving her unsure how to continue.

Fuffens appears in her bedroom doorway, scolding her for having been out all day before moving in to inspect the bags.

"Glad to see you up and about," she says cautiously as she shifts the bags to one hand and turns to lock the door. "I, umm, bought you some clothes. I wasn't sure about your size, so I guessed on the jeans. If they don't fit, we can give them away or take them back or..."

Her nervous rambling trails off as he continues to stare out the window, not responding. She shrugs and goes into the bedroom, tossing the bags onto her bed and trying to convince herself that this is a good sign. The phone and note lay untouched on the bedside table, and the covers are smoothed out and flattened. She smiles to herself before coming out to take off her shoes, feeling somewhat relieved.

"Let me know if you see anything in there you like," she says to the cat as she passes. "It's yours."

Fuffens has already ensconced himself in the pile of plastic bags and is happily gnawing on a handle.

Apadiel moves carefully towards the window. She had hoped the gifts would help break the ice, but they can't have an effect if he doesn't even acknowledge receiving them. Now she scolds herself for entering the apartment with both hands full, but now she can’t bring herself to draw her blade. She feels it, itching in her fingertips, but she waits.

She steps to the side, off towards the kitchen, rather than approaching him directly. He's awake; his eyes are open and focused as he watches a sailboat lazily making its way towards the outer harbor.

"Why did you rescue me?" he asks.

Apadiel stops where she stands, casting her eyes around her apartment as if expecting the answers to be written on her walls or windows. Now, today, she has questions that she knows he can help her answer, but last night she had acted without even thinking. She rescued him because he’d needed rescuing.

Her warding art is spread out on the kitchen island, alongside a sliced-open hex bag and several protective coins she's slotted into the moulding around the door frame.

"I really wish you hadn't taken all that stuff down," she sighs. "I'm–"

"You're a hunter," he fills in. "You kill monsters, demons. Why didn't you kill me, or leave me to die?"

Apadiel shifts her weight and steps off to the side, picking up one of her framed wards. She turns it over in her hands before setting it back down and facing him again.

"I don't know why I didn't leave you." She plays with her pendant while she talks, rolling it between her fingers and squeezing it until the fixtures bite into her skin. It’s an honest answer. She knows she couldn’t have left him, even if she can’t give a better explain as to why. "What do you remember from last night?"

She shifts enough to get a better look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes despite his hours of unconsciousness, and his eyes are red and watery.

"I remember fire, and pain, and falling. I remember plunging into the water. Then I woke up here."

Apadiel nods. "You should be grateful you didn't hit one of the sailboats,” she offers. “You would've been skewered.”

The emerald flashes brilliantly when it catches the sun. Apadiel makes shapes dance on the wall and ceiling, watching them rather than watching him. She’s not about to lower her guard completely, but his lack of aggression gives her a thin sense of optimism.

He nods slowly. "But you don't know why you did it."

Apadiel shakes her head, thinking for a moment. "Do you know what I am?" She asks.

His brows furrow, but he doesn't turn to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"Look at me," she commands. "Look at me and tell me if you can see what I am. You thought you knew last night," she reminds him, biting down on the tremble in her voice.

It’s a big risk, but it’s also possibly part of the explanation he’s looking for, because she’s not just a hunter. Her fingers twitch, but she still fights the instinct to take out her blade. This will only work if they can trust each other, so she’s going to try.

His feet whisper against the floor when he turns away from the window. Now that he’s slept and she can see him in the light of day, she can see that his vessel is older. There are silver hairs that catch the sun’s light both in his hair and the stubble on his chin, and his face is lined.

His eyes go wide and he takes a step back, holding out his hands.

"That's what I thought," Apadiel mutters. She stands perfectly still, waiting while he backs away until his legs hits the couch. She settles her weight, folding her hands behind her back, making herself the picture of calm patience.

"You're... you were banished to Hell!” He shouts, pointing. “I was there, I saw you! With Chumael–"

"And Ganael, yes," she finishes. It stings more than she had expected to hear someone else say their names. "We left together, bound for Hell. But then the Gates were opened again... six years ago," she continues, counting on her fingers. "I left Hell. I left them, too, in case you're wondering."

"Apadiel. You were banished to Hell. You sympathized with Lucifer." There are equal measures of fear and awe in his voice, and it gives Apadiel more pleasure than it should to know that she still has a reputation, however inaccurate it probably is.

"Aah, those were the days," she muses, voice thick with sarcasm. "But things are more than a little different now."

He takes a careful step forward, watching her intently. "But you’re not going to kill me?"

"It's not currently in my plans, no." She looks down at her nails, doing her best to affect nonchalance. "I really don't want to. I think I pulled you out of that harbor because you’re an angel, and I’m an angel, and that’s what we do, sometimes. Anyway it would be pretty pointless for me to fish you out only to kill you now.”

His eyes narrow with suspicion. "Then what do you want?" He asks.

"I'd settle for your name, for starters."

He considers for a moment, then straightens, standing to attention. "My name is Nuriel," he says, clearly and far too loudly for the space.

Apadiel grimaces and shushes him. "No need for the volume. The neighbors will complain."

She walks towards him and extends her right hand. "Well, Nuriel. I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you, but since you've been staying in my home for almost a day now, I think it's only proper I welcome you. So, welcome."

He stares at her hand for a moment, then glances up to her face. She nods down towards her hand, giving it a little shake for emphasis.

He sweeps her hand up in his own left hand and bows down to kiss it, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.

Energy leaps between them like a spark. She jerks her hand away and steps back, flustered.

"We'll work on handshakes some other time," she says, looking down at the back of her hand. She can feel heat rising on her cheeks.

Nuriel looks confused, and slightly hurt, but makes no effort to follow her.

"Now that we know each other better, I must thank you for saving me last night," he says, with such stoic sincerity that Apadiel has to look away.

"You should get dressed. There are clothes in there in the bags. Just dump the cat on the floor," she says, pointing towards the bedroom.

Nuriel looked somewhat affronted at the suggestion. "The cat has been my only companion all day. I think I'll treat him with a little more dignity than that."

"You say that now, but give it a couple days,” Apadiel replies with a laugh. “Once he starts washing his junk in front of you, or watching you while you pee, then you'll start dumping him on the floor, too. I guarantee it."

Nuriel frowns, shaking his head before disappearing into the bedroom.

Apadiel collects the other bag from near the door and carries it into the kitchen. She unpacks milk, fruit, and the rest of her groceries, feeling a profound sense of relief. Tension eases out of her, more than she’d been aware she was carrying. This went even better than the most hopeful scenarios she’d played out in her mind while walking through town during the day.

"Are you hungry?" She calls to the closed bedroom door.

Nuriel comes out again, this time wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt. His feet are still bare, but he's covered, and out of the robe.

"Well, looks like everything fits," she says. "I asked if you were hungry."

Nuriel lays a hand on his stomach, then shrugs. "I don't know. What does hungry feel like?"

Apadiek furrows her brow in thought, then picks up an apple and tosses it to him. "Eat that, and then see if you feel better than you did before. If you do, then you were probably hungry."

"Do you get hungry?" he asks before biting into the apple.

"Not really," she replies. "I like food, but I don't get hungry or tired. I eat because it's nice, I sleep because it's pleasant. I'm still an angel."

"You were cast into Hell," Nuriel mumbles, spitting tiny bits of apple while he talks.

"Yeah," she agrees, "but my Grace was wrapped to go, so I still have all the angelic benefits except flying. I have wings, they just don't work that well." She pauses, remembering the burn marks on his clothing from the night before. "How are your wings?"

He rolls his shoulders and winces. "They're still there," he starts, but Apadiel holds up her hand.

"Finish the apple, then tell me,” she instructs.

Nuriel nods obediently, finishing the apple while Apadiel opens the balcony door. Pop music wafts in from outside, and she groans.

Nuriel joins her by the door, raising his eyebrows in silent question.

"It's the Elida," she says, pointing towards a one hundred-thirty foot sailboat moored on the other side of the pier from the Götheborg. "Christian kids go out sailing during the summer. Great way to teach teamwork and bonding and all that, but they can party."

"You asked about my wings," he says, eager to change the subject. "They are sore, but not broken. They're still there."

"And your Grace?" She asks, more pointedly this time.

"What do you mean, my Grace?"

Apadiel steps out onto the balcony, resting her elbows on the railing and looking out over the city. "When I was banished, I took my Grace with me, but I was cut off from Heaven. If Grace is your bungee cord– the line that can always pull you back to Heaven– then mine was an exposed nerve. It's still there, but it doesn't work, it just hurts all the time."

Nuriel is silent from his place in the doorway.

"I am in no pain right now," he finally replies.

Apadiel nods. She had felt something between them, but hadn’t been sure that it was Grace.

"What else did you want?" he asks.

She glances back over her shoulder at him. "What do you mean?"

"You don't want to kill me. You said you would settle for my name for starters." He comes out onto the balcony and settles into a folding chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "What else do you want?"

"I need to know how this happened," she explains. "Last night, I heard you all, in my head." She taps her temple for emphasis. "I felt your pain and fear and rage. That hasn't happened to me in a very long time. I didn't think it could happen any more, so I need to know what happened, and what I can do about it."

Nuriel is quiet for a moment. Just when Apadiel is about to press him again, he lifts his head, nodding.

"Metatron. There was a spell. He cast all the angels out..." His gaze turns inward. Apadiel isn't sure if he's listening or thinking, so she waits, watching him. "Castiel. Yes, Castiel was involved. I don't know how."

"Metatron cast all the angels out of Heaven?" Apadiel asks, amazed. During her time in Heaven he had been meek, mild, content to sit and record the stories of others. She wonders what happened to him after her departure.

Nuriel nods. "I don't know any more than that. I wish I did."

"Where is Castiel now? Do you know?"

Nuriel shakes his head. "I have no idea where he is, or if he is even alive. This sort of spell, it wouldn't surprise me if it required him to sacrifice his life."

Apadiel frowns. "Which means there would be no way to reverse it without him. Shit."

She bangs the heel of her hand on the railing so that the steel sings a dull note.

"Your desire to help me, us, get back to Heaven is unexpected," Nuriel says.

"I want you away from me," Apadiel explains. "This is my home, my city. I don't want angels here. I want you all up in Heaven, doing your thing, as far away from me as I can get you. If I can't send you back there, I can sure send you somewhere else."

Her words come out more sternly than she means for them to. Nuriel gasps, rising to his feet so suddenly that he upsets the table beside him. His blade is drawn when Apadiel gives him a lazy glance.

"No, Nuriel. Not..." She heaves a sigh and rolls her eyes, waving off his defensive posturing. "I meant 'away from me' as in another country, another city. Away. Geez. I meant it when I said I wasn't going to kill you. Please don't make me change my mind."

Nuriel looks appropriately contrite and lowers his blade.

“Something big and terrible happened last night,” Apadiel says, turning her back to the city to look at Nuriel instead. “I won’t try to pretend to have all the answers. I barely have any answers. But I’m good at asking questions, and you were there. I think we can help each other with this, but that means that we have to at least sort of trust each other.”

Nuriel’s blade is gone now, but he doesn’t appear convinced. “You sympathized with Lucifer. He betrayed us all.”

Apadiel looks away, fighting to keep from rolling her eyes again. “The way I see it, Heaven betrayed us. God betrayed us. But I still pulled you out of that harbor.”

“Because you’re an angel,” Nuriel says it quietly, but with sincerity, like he actually believes her.

“And because you’re an angel,” Apadiel agrees. “So let’s start with that.”

Nuriel nods, and for a while neither of them talk, lost in their own thoughts.

The conversation turned Apadiel’s thoughts to places and time she hasn’t thought about in years, and she’s surprised by the dull ache that it wakes up in her chest. She knows that she’s missed Chumael and Ganael, but she’d been unprepared for the truth that she missed Heaven, and the simple presence of other angels. She’d felt it all day, and it was even sharper now that she was home. She felt less alone.

“My throat hurts,” Nuriel finally says.

“Oh-kay,” Apadiel replies, unsure what he means.

“The apple, it helped with my throat, but only a little,” he explains. “Maybe I’m still hungry?”

Apadiel gives him a puzzled look, then grins. “You’re thirsty,” she proclaims. “Your throat’s dry. Come on, I’ll get you some water.”

She moves past him into the apartment again. Nuriel gives the sky a glance before following after her.

Marie arrives about an hour later. Her key scrapes in the lock, and Nuriel tenses, but Apadiel motions for him to keep sitting on the couch. His eyes follow Fuffens until the cat disappears into the hallway.

“Padi?” Marie’s voice is soft and cautious. There is a rustle as she sets something down on the floor, and the quiet clicking of her tongue as she greets the cat.

“I’m in here. Come on in,” Apadiel answers. She’s glad that Marie decided to come, rather than leaving Apadiel on her own with Nuriel.

“I didn’t eat yet,” Marie continues, her words choppy as she hops to untie her shoe. “So I brought dinner with me. I didn’t get you anything, I know you don’t like stroganoff.”

Apadiel wrinkles her nose, and Nuriel looks at her with confusion.

“It’s… barely food,” she explains, eyes flitting to the hall and back. “They have this sausage that’s made from–”

She stops abruptly when Marie comes in. She’s still dressed from work, but her collar on her black dress shirt is loosened and a plastic bag hangs in her hand.

“You’re awake,” she says, a nervous smile spreading over her face.

Nuriel stands and nods. “Very much so. Thank you for your assistance last night. Nuriel,” he says, extending his hand.

Marie takes his hand. “Marie Gustafsson.” She blushes, shaking her head and turning towards the kitchen. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You were there,” Nuriel replies. “I think, somehow, it took both of you to rescue me.”

Marie ducks her head, even though she’s not facing him. Apadiel gives him a sly look and grins.

“We’ve been spending all day gossiping about you, is what he’s saying,” Apadiel calls from across the room. She doesn’t move to stand, but watches the two of them from the armchair.

“Yeah, I figured,” Marie replies. She’s regained her composure enough to go to the cabinets in search of a plate and cutlery.

“Actually, we’ve been gossiping about Heaven,” Nuriel corrects. “Apadiel knows most of what happened, but some things have managed to pass her by.”

At this, Apadiel pushes herself up out of the armchair and walks to the kitchen where Marie is leaning against the island. She eyes Marie’s food with amusement.

“So you just assumed you’d be able to come over and eat?” Apadiel asks.

“Standard procedure,” Marie replies coolly. “You didn’t call, so I figured either you were fine, or it was too late for me to be able to save you, so I could at least avenge your death on a full stomach.”

Apadiel bites at her lower lip and crinkles her nose. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s been kind of a weird day.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Marie answers before turning her attention to Nuriel. “So, what kind of gossip can you possibly have brought with you from Heaven?”

Apadiel’s face lights up and she rushes to start talking before Nuriel can so much as open his mouth.

“Apparently, after the Apocalypse–”

“The Zombie Run?” Marie asks, pointing with her fork.

Apadiel nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, after that, this angel–”

“Zombie Run?” Nuriel asks.

Apadiel heaves a sigh at the interruption. “Sweden got grazed by the Apocalypse, such as it was. Some bad weather, an earthquake, and a whole herd of undead coming up out of the outer harbor.” She turns and looks out over the river, nodding towards the bridge. “Real Pirates of the Scandinavian, groaning in old Danish.”

“That was a hell of a night,” Marie mumbles around a mouthful of food.

Apadiel continues in a matter-of-fact tone while Marie eats. “There were photos and video and stuff, so we told the newspaper that it was a zombie demonstration for charity.”

“And then quietly decapitated them all when the cameras were gone,” Marie finishes.

Nuriel nods slowly, taking in the story. It’s not one of Apadiel’s favorites, but he listens with such interest and attentiveness that she feels pride creep into her smile when she glances at Marie.

“I suppose this answers one of my questions,” Nuriel says.

Marie and Apadiel each raise an eyebrow, mirroring each other.

“I was wondering how you met, you and Apadiel,” he continues, turning to face Marie. “I imagine it must have been a surprise, for a woman such as yourself to learn of the dark things that exist in this world.”

Marie tries to laugh, but chokes on her food, turning away to the sink to cough and spit. When she looks at him again, there are tears in her eyes. Apadiel, on the other hand, is giving him a cool glare, head tilted to the side, mentally cataloguing the idea that he sees her as a dark thing..

“I was hunting for years before Apadiel walked out of Hell and collapsed on the steps of my church like some kind of Victor Hugo heroine,” Marie replies dryly. “My father taught me, brought it with him from Thailand. He wasn’t really prepared for how civilized the monsters here are, though.” She smiles to herself. “He would’ve loved this.”

Nuriel listens to her explanation. “So, her being an angel, that was not a surprise for you?”

Marie bites at her lower lip, considering his question. “She had to convince me. Puffed up like a peacock, did the eye thing,” she explains, pointing from her eyes to Apadiel’s.

“Eye thing?” Nuriel asks.

Apadiel clears her throat, and he moves to face him. She sets her shoulders, straightens her back, and assumes a very serious expression. Her eyes glow white. The glow is more golden than Nuriel’s cold blue-white from the night before.

The light fades, and Apadiel relaxes, stretching her head to one side and rolling her shoulders. It’s a flashy display that serves no real purpose between two angels, though it had done the trick when she’d shown it to Marie.

Apadiel wraps her hand around her emerald pendant as if to reassure herself that it’s still there. She rolls it between her fingers while they talk, focussing on it until the anxiety of talking about her first days on Earth fades. She’s grateful that Marie does most of the talking for her.

“I suppose a priest is more likely to believe than someone less well-acquainted with history,” Nuriel replies.

“Well, the display was impressive, but then she healed, and nothing worked on her. Silver, iron, salt, all the classics.” Marie counts them off on her fingers.

“She was going to stab me, but I did it first,” Apadiel fills in.

“You stabbed yourself?” Nuriel’s eyes search over her as if he can still find the wound.

“Yes, in the hand,” Apadiel replies, wiggling her fingers. “Fixed it right up, too.”

Marie clears her throat before continuing. “She needed somewhere to stay, and the church’s parish had a store room, so I let her stay there, but then she came home to my apartment for a while, until she learned the ropes of this humanity thing. She was a fast learner.” Marie’s gaze goes distant for a moment. “Then she got herself this place.”

Apadiel is surprised to find herself smiling at the memories. Her first few months on Earth had been full of unexpected sensations and experiences. She’d been raw from Hell, from losing Chumael and Ganael, and from still being unable to return to Heaven. She’d been paranoid, convinced that the hosts of Heaven and Hell were hunting for her, and had only planned on staying in the church one night.

“Have you checked your email yet today?” Marie asks. She pokes Apadiel in the side and pulls her out of her thoughts. “Half my inbox is people trying to get a hold of you.”

Apadiel groans. “I may have been putting it off,” she replies. “Who is it?”

“Just about everyone,” Marie answers. “Stockholm, Malmö, Norrland–”

“Nooo,” Apadiel groans and turns away. “No, not the reindeer farmers.” She shuffles into her bedroom, coming out with a laptop. “How do they even get internet access up there?”

“Very carefully,” Marie says.

“Anyone figure it out yet?” Apadiel starts the computer, then goes to the sink, filling a glass with water.

Marie shakes her head. “If they have, they haven’t given any indication what they’re thinking. At least not to me. I don’t know what your messages are gonna say.”

After Apadiel’s trip through the city today, she has a very good idea what the messages will say. It’s why she’s been avoiding answering her messages, or even looking at them, all day.

Marie abandons her dinner and sits down on the couch, close to Apadiel’s armchair. Nuriel follows after, sitting at the far end of the couch.

“Figure what out?” he asks, looking between them.

“What really happened,” Marie explains. “The media around the world is saying that this, that you all were a meteor shower.”

Nuriel’s mouth falls open. He stares at Marie, then at Apadiel, who just shrugs. She can understand his shock, but for her this is run of the mill.

“People need to know,” Nuriel stammers. “They need to be prepared, to, to–”

“Prepared for what?” Apadiel prompts him. “We’re talking about a planet that survived the Apocalypse and still has a healthy population of monsters and demons on it, all while the majority of the population just goes about their lives.”

“To tell people what really happened,” Marie continues, “would be to tell people that Heaven is real, and then immediately follow that with the news that it’s now empty of angels. Humanity isn’t ready for that.”

Nuriel sags back against the couch, shaking his head. Apadiel watches him over the screen of her laptop. She can understand his disbelief, and can imagine the sadness and disappointment he must be feeling. Earth looks a lot better from above.

She scrolls through her overstuffed inbox without clicking on anything. All in all there are about thirty messages, almost all of them from hunters in northern Europe. The subject lines on most of them indicate that they’re looking for information, though some of them want help.

“Anything exciting in there?” Marie asks, leaning to sneak a look at the screen.

Apadiel gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Usual suspects, like you said. Reindeer farmers, Stockholm calling… one, two, three, quatre points from our friends in Finland.”

Marie’s head drops forward. “Let me guess. They have three of them hogtied in their basement and want to know how to kill them even though they have no idea what they are.”

Apadiel pops an eyebrow, and chuckles when she sees Nuriel’s appalled expression.

“They’re monster trophy hunters,” Apadiel explains. “They enjoy the new and untested.”

“They won’t hurt my brothers, will they?”

Apadiel’s heart goes out to him. “Nah. They’re not incompetent, but angels are way above their pay grade. They might try to hurt them, but they don’t have the tools to do any real damage.”

“I didn’t see any of our friends on there,” Marie adds, turning her head to the side without lifting it. “Maybe they emailed you but not me?”

Apadiel squints at the screen and shakes her head. “No, none of them got in touch. Either they haven’t figured it out yet, or they have and they don’t want to turn to me about it.”

At that Marie looks up, pushing her fingers into her hair to get it out of her face. She gives Apadiel a sympathetic look that makes Apadiel sink down lower into her chair until Marie’s face is obscured by the screen.

Nuriel looks between them in confusion, and Apadiel can all but feel the shift in Marie’s sympathy from her to the other angel.

“There are a few select people in the hunter community who know what Apadiel really is,” Marie explains, in the same patient, pedagogic tone she uses with so many other people every day, laying out the mysteries of the universe in order to give them comfort. “I would have expected them to pick up on what’s going on a little quicker and get in touch with us about it.”

Nuriel leans forward in his seat. “But then, since she’s still telling people she’s an angel–”

“I am an angel,” Apadiel retorts from behind her computer.

Marie holds up her hands to silence them both. “Since she’s an angel, they might not want to contact her about other angels. Yes.”

They are all silent for a moment. Apadiel straightens in the chair, peeking out over the top of the laptop again.

“Anyway,” Marie starts again, definitively changing the subject, “I came by to see how you were doing,” she nods towards Nuriel, “and to see if you had a plan yet.” She shifts her gaze to Apadiel, who frowns and shakes her head.

“I spent the day trying to make one,” Apadiel says, setting her laptop down onto the coffee table. “It didn’t go well. Lots of dead angels.” She speaks quietly, looking anywhere but at Nuriel. They had covered a lot of ground before Marie arrived, but she’d been careful to avoid mentioning her day in the city.

“You didn’t find anyone else alive?” Nuriel asks.

“One,” Apadiel replies.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Nuriel sit forward on the couch. She can still see the scene in the apartment behind her eyes when she blinks.

“What happened?” Nuriel presses. “How did it go?”

Apadiel looks at Marie. She can feel the guilt and regret settling into her features, and sees it reflected back when Marie meets her eyes. She lets her head fall forward, hiding her face under her hair as she stretches her arm out to lay the other angel’s blade on the tabletop.

She flinches when she hears Nuriel’s sharp inhale.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was self-defense?” She asks, lifting her head to look at him.

She meets an expression filled with fear, anger, and disappointment, but his eyes soften when he sees her.

“Padi, I’m sorry,” Marie whispers.

Apadiel nods, acknowledging Marie’s words, but she doesn’t look away from Nuriel. She can’t, not until she figures out a way to explain that this wasn’t her plan, wasn’t what she went there for. She’s overcome by a need to make him understand that she’s not what they say about her in Heaven. Or at the very least, she’s more than that.

She worries at her lower lip and takes a breath to speak, but he starts before she can get out a word of explanation.

“I asked you when you came in if you were going to kill me,” he says slowly, putting the idea together as he speaks. “It never occurred to me that you might have valid concerns about me killing you.”

The rush of relief she feels is unexpected. Nuriel was supposed to be angry, resentful. She’d even prepared herself for vengeance. His quick empathy is disarming, and she’s not sure what to do with it.

“Yeah, well.” Apadiel tries to shrug it off, but even she can tell it’s not convincing. “So far, you’re my biggest success today.”

“No small thing, saving my life,” Nuriel reassures her. There is an intensity to the warmth in his gaze that makes Apadiel shift uncomfortably and look away at last.

Marie coughs and givers her watch an unsubtle glance. “Well, I think it’s probably best if I get going,” she says as she stands up and starts to move away towards the door.

Nuriel rushes to stand with her, extending his hand. “It was good to meet you. Thank you again for your help last night.”

Marie shakes his hand and smiles sheepishly. “Still not sure what I did, but you’re welcome.”

“Do you really have to go so soon?” He asks, not letting go of her hand. “I thought you came to plan with Apadiel.”

Marie tugs her hand free and takes a small step back. “That can wait until tomorrow, I think. It sounds like Padi’s had her hands full today.”

Her eyes move from his face to the blade on the table, to finally land on Apadiel’s face. She’s staring blankly back at her, watching their conversation with cool interest and a trace of disappointment.

Marie nods towards the door, and Apadiel moves to follow her when she goes.

Nuriel steps out from behind the couch, but Apadiel raises a hand to stop him.

“I’ll be back in a minute, just… chill on the couch. Wait here.”

Nuriel sits down obediently, seeming content to stare at his reflection in the TV as the other two head to the door.

Fuffens is sleeping peacefully on the mat near the door and moves only grudgingly when they crowd in around him. Marie pulls on her shoes in silence while Apadiel hovers, a vague feeling of nervousness taking shape in her stomach. Marie has nowhere to be, not for hours. It’s not like her to just leave, nor to be so reticent.

Apadiel reaches past her to unlock and open the door, then follows her out into the hall.

“Everything okay?” Apadiel asks. “We didn’t get to talk a lot about your day.”

Marie shrugs. “People asked about angels all day, and I toed the public line all day. Then I came here to you two.” She gestures towards the closed door.

“I–”

“And dead angels,” Marie continues, growing more agitated as she talks. “Do you know how long it took me to get used to the idea of one angel? And then just like that they’re everywhere now, everywhere except Heaven, and when I come over to talk to you about it you pull out a sword because you killed one of them! There’s never been anything here that could hurt you before! Do you know how scary that is, to think that they could kill you?”

She’s pacing now, and tears shine in the corners of her eyes. Apadiel wants to stop her, but she also knows that Marie isn’t done yet, and it’s no idea to try to get a word in until it’s over.

“Not that I think he’ll kill you. I thought he might when you showed him that sword, but no, he’s. He looks at you like–”

“The sword was for you.” Apadiel steps in, cutting Marie off so that she doesn’t have to hear the end of the sentence. She’s glad to know that she wasn’t the only one who saw something in Nuriel’s eyes, but she doesn’t want to talk about it or even acknowledge it yet.

“What?” Marie stops pacing and looks up at her, wiping at her eyes. “Why?”

“To protect you. That angel won’t be using it any more, and I don’t know where the other living angels are, but it’s a safe bet that they’ll try to find churches, and I want to know you’re safe.”

Apadiel holds the blade out again. She’d picked it up on her way to the door, and now Marie takes it. It almost fits into her bag, only an inch of the shining silver handle peeking out from under the flap.

She leans forward, resting her forehead against Apadiel, her emotional explosion giving way to something quieter, but no less honest. “This is scary,” she mumbles, muffled by Apadiel’s clothes. “I thought, if I ever got to meet more angels, that it would be… not like this.”

Apadiel strokes the back of her head. “I was going to go into town tomorrow, but I can come to the church instead.”

“You need to answer your emails,” Marie replies with a soft laugh, straightening away from Apadiel again. “So that I don’t have to answer mine. And look after your new friend in there.” She wiggles her fingers at the door and screws up her face at the mention of Nuriel.

“Don’t start,” Apadiel says. “He’s like, I don’t know, a little brother that I knew I had, but never met. Or something. It’s weird.”

“What are you gonna do with him?” Marie asks.

Apadiel exhales a sigh through her nose. “I don’t know yet. Talk to him more, I guess. Find out what he knows.”

Marie rubs at her temple. “He’s good at getting you to talk. Me too, for that matter. I can count on one hand the people I’ve told that zombie story.”

“You still sure you want to leave?” Apadiel asks.

She feels better knowing why Marie was so quick to want to go, but she also knows that Marie’s not wrong in her observation about Nuriel. Ever since Apadiel came home, she’s felt at ease talking to him, caught herself several times about to say something she wouldn’t have otherwise. She’d thought it was something angelic, but knowing that Marie felt it as well is telling, and now the idea of spending the evening talking to him makes her anxious.

“Yeah.” Marie takes a step back towards the elevator, fumbling after the button without turning around. “It’s your family reunion.”

Apadiel tilts her head to the side and smiles sadly at Marie. “You are more my family than he is right now, okay? Don’t forget that.”

”I’m at Bahar’s tonight. Call if you find out anything important. And answer your emails!” Marie calls as the elevator doors close and cut her off.

“Bye,” Apadiel says to the closed door. Marie’s reaction is confusing, but this will be something that it’s going to take time for everyone to process. It’s unlike her to pull away, but angels have never fallen from the sky, either, so Apadiel has no real baseline for this.

She goes back inside, herding Fuffens away from the door with her foot before giving in and scooping him up in her arms. She finds Nuriel sitting in front of her computer, poking at the track pad ineffectively.

“They think we’re monsters.” He points at the screen, looking up at her with honest surprise when she comes in. “How is it easier for them to believe in monsters than in angels?”

Apadiel scoffs. “When’s the last time you performed a miracle? They believe in monsters because they know they’re real.” She pauses, then crosses the room quickly to slap the laptop closed on his fingers. “Why are you reading my email?”

“It beeped,” he replies, shaking his fingers. “I wanted to know why it beeped.”

“Probably because I got more email,” she answers. She returns to the armchair and turns the computer back towards her, opening it again. She dumps Fuffens onto the floor, where he trots over to hop up beside Nuriel on the couch.

“We never got a chance to talk about a plan.” Nuriel leans forward in the chair, dipping his head until he catches Apadiel’s eyes. “Do you have a plan?”

Apadiel glances at him but doesn’t answer. She answers an email, typing with more force than is strictly necessary.

“Did I do something to make Marie leave?” He asks, quieter now.

Apadiel feels for him. What he’s been through hasn’t been easy, but she doesn’t have a plan, and without Marie she doesn’t want to try to make one. Nuriel wants answers, and she’s just too tired to give them to him now, especially not when she’s no longer sure she can trust herself to stop talking when she needs to.

“I should really answer these emails,” she replies, her eyes skitting back to her computer. “You can keep using my room if you want.”

Nuriel takes the hint. Apadiel sees him out of the corner of his eye. He nods, stands, and moves away from the coffee table. She flinches when she hears the door to her bedroom click closed.


	4. Chapter 4

Apadiel nods at her phone before letting it drop onto the cushion next to her. She pushes a hand back through her hair and her head falls back against the couch.

It’s been almost two days since Apadiel’s unsuccessful trip to town to try to find information on the angels that fell, and since Marie’s visit to the apartment. She’s spent the time answering emails, falling deep into conversation with several hunters that had seen or interacted with them.

A spiral bound notebook sits open next to her laptop, half-filled with writing in her wide, swooping hand. One side is covered by a rudimentary map of Finland and Scandinavia, the other with lines drawn to sites on the map, connected to paragraphs of writing. There are crossed-out patches, things ringed in, and the word ‘PLAN???’ in thick, dark letters in the bottom corner.

She twirls her pen between her fingers and stares up at the ceiling. The information had been spotty and some of it had been contradictory, but Apadiel had been able to piece together an estimate of how many angels had fallen, and of how many had survived.

Or not. The numbers were disheartening. Even if Apadiel had had her share of dark fantasies about revenge for her punishment, this was never what she wanted. She sees wings burned into concrete, tree trunks, and brick walls every time she closes her eyes.

Getting a handle on the whereabouts of the survivors of the fall was impossible. Some of the hunters thought they’d seen them, but no one had anything definitive, which was just as well because the only advice she could give them at this point was to stay as far as possible.

Her phone blinks to life again.

Apadiel blows a long breath out. Marie’s favorite rule for her Eurovision parties always leaves her digging through the bottom of her wardrobe in search of one of the few skirts she owns.

She heaves herself up out of the couch with a grunt. She’s been sitting in front of her computer for more than a day and her back protests when she stands and stretches. All the information has left her with no reassurance, even if it has filled some holes in her knowledge.

She has left an invaluable source of information on his own in her bedroom since Marie left her apartment, and she knows it. She’s still unsettled by how at ease she’d been with him, and at the time it had been easier to give him the cold shoulder than to risk saying or doing something she would regret later.

Now, though, it seems like the only option left. Their chat that night had been gossip and old times, but they never had any chance to discuss what had happened Wednesday night. Perhaps, somewhere between the glitter and call-in votes, there will be a chance for them to talk so that Apadiel can get answers to a few of the dozens of questions she still has.

Nothing will be accomplished, however, until she showers, makes coffee, and coaxes Nuriel out of her room. He hasn’t come out again since Apadiel offered him the room, and there hasn’t been so much as a sound. At first the quiet had been normal and peaceful, but as the day wore on it had weighed Apadiel down until she’d been unable to ignore it, or him, any more.

She’s uncomfortable with the idea that he’s left a void after such a short period of time in her life, but there it is. Angels are used to being around other angels. Apadiel spent years convincing herself that that wasn’t true for her any more, but her first brush with Grace after so long an absence had eased an ache that she’d stopped thinking about. In Nuriel’s presence she feels better than she has in a long time, and it scares her. 

She moves to the closed door and knocks. Fuffens unfurls himself from the threshold where he’s stood guard ever since Nuriel closed the door. He watches hopefully as Apadiel knocks again, then opens the door just enough to let the cat slink into the room.

“He hates closed doors,” Apadiel says by way of greeting. “They’re a challenge he can’t overcome. Too short to reach the handle.”

She waits, but there’s still no sound from inside the room. A laugh was perhaps a lot to ask for, but the silence now sends a cold wave of worry through her, and she pushes the door open slowly with her hand.

Nuriel is lying on his side, curled in on himself, facing away from the door. Fuffens is displaying his usual lack of boundaries and is sitting on Nuriel’s hip, kneading his side with his front paws and purring.

Apadiel leans against the door frame. “Is he gonna live, Fuff?”

Nuriel sighs and lifts an arm to pet Fuffens’ head. Apadiel breathes out, glad to see a sign of life. His Grace is stronger than it had been the other night, but pulled in tight around him like a cloak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks. His head shifts slightly on the pillow so that Apadiel can just see the corner of his eye.

She hesitates, unsure how to answer. “No,” she starts. “At least, not on purpose, I don’t think.”

“I haven’t been to Earth for more than a thousand years,” he continues, shifting until he’s lying on his back.

Fuffens falls gracefully off Nuriel’s side, only to switch tactics. Apadiel comes in to sit on the edge of the bed and he paces between the two of them, greedy for all the attention he can get.

“I’m not stupid,” Nuriel says. “But I am unsure of my footing. I fell, literally, from the sky.” He lifts his arm, only to let his hand fall back down again until it lands on the cat. “I need help.”

“I know,” Apadiel admits. “And I’m gonna help you. But angels just fell, literally, from the sky, y’know?”

Nuriel laughs. It’s a small, weak noise, but he smiles and his chest shakes and Apadiel thinks that maybe they both feel a little better.

“We’re going to a party, so pick out some clothes while I shower.”

He does, pulling on the same jeans and a black t-shirt. Forty-five minutes later, Apadiel nods approvingly where she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, checking her reflection as she puts on earrings.

Nuriel looks up from his book and grins.

“You look amazing.”

Apadiel bites back her confusion and looks herself over in the mirror. She’s wearing a black sequined halter top and a tight black miniskirt. Her bracelets rattle against each other as she twists in front of the mirror.

“Thank you,” she says after a moment. “I wanted something fun, but not too ‘ooh, Eurovision.’” She wiggles her fingers for emphasis.

“You wanted something you thought Marie would like,” Nuriel adds.

Apadiel smiles warmly, turning away from him so that he can’t see the color on her cheeks. “She’ll like the skirt,” she says, twisting in the doorway. “She has a rule for this party. Girls have to wear skirts, or at least not jeans.”

“This is unusual for you?” Nuriel asks, gesturing to her outfit.

Apadiel nods and whistles. “I love a good pair of jeans. How do I run or jump in this?” She motions to the skirt and hops in place.

“You could fly,” Nuriel suggests. “You said you still could.”

“Short hops, not really worth it. Hurts too much.”

She stops herself, biting down on her tongue. She’d promised herself that she would remember to not let them fall into conversation again. She feels herself flush with nerves.

“How do you do that?” she demands, turning on Nuriel where he sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t normally… I don’t talk to strangers. I’ve gotten really good at it. I’ll admit it’s been a long time since I was around another angel, but that’s not enough. What is this?”

Her voice goes high with frustration, but he just sits calmly and waits for her to finish.

She sighs. “I can’t take you to this party without knowing what this is, and I can’t not take you to the party, so.” She crosses her arms and watches him, waiting for an answer.

"I have a way of getting people to open up,” he replies, looking down at his hands. "Confessions are my specialty."

Apadiel nods, understanding. Her shoulders droop and she breathes out. It makes perfect sense, and she’s irritated with herself that she hadn’t thought of it first. 

“That’s why it’s so easy for me to talk to you,” she says, nodding to herself.

His brows furrow in thought as he considers it. “I’d like to think it’s not the only reason.”

Fuffens flops down beside Apadiel, rolling himself into a ball around her hand.

“Does this mean I get to go to the party?” Nuriel asks, looking at her with the same patient curiosity.

She holds his gaze. “Can you control it?” 

The corners of his mouth pull down. “Of course I can control it,” he says, looking vaguely offended.

The fact that he can control it but chose to use it on her anyway is no great reassurance.

“Well, I told Marie I would, so… I hope I have money for both of us on my bus card,” Apadiel answers, looking away when Nuriel smiles.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she warns him as she stands.

“I will be an exemplary guest,” he says with a smile as he rolls off the bed to follow her out of the room.

Marie's apartment in Biskopsgården is spacious, complete with an inexplicable extra bathroom and two sofas in the living room that collapse into beds. Perfect for a party. Every available piece of furniture was moved into the living room earlier to watch the competition, but now a new country has been crowned for the year, and the party has moved on but for the music choices being made inside.

The night is warm, and they aren't the only ones having a party, so the courtyard behind the building is filled with music and laughter spilling out from the balconies that look out over the woods. There's karaoke on one of the upper floors, and two balconies away a large, bald man is singing along with Danish schlager at the top of his lungs.

Nuriel pauses when he comes out of the apartment to where Marie is on her own balcony, narrowing his eyes and watching the man for a moment.

"Is he threatening his guests?" He asks in a serious tone, one hand balling into a fist. Marie smiles, imagining him hopping from balcony to balcony like a superhero, ready to defend the partygoers from her neighbor’s outburst.

"Nah," she says, chuckling. "He just really loves Eurovision. They interview him on the radio sometimes. He fancies himself an expert."

"I was unaware that sort of expertise was valuable," Nuriel replies.

"It's not," Marie fires back, "but he has it anyway. It's just something he enjoys. There's no really point or profit in it. He loves Eurovision, so he's learned a lot about it."

Nuriel takes a pull of his beer and nods. "It was quite a spectacle." Apadiel had handed him the bottle when they’d first arrived, and Marie is amused to see that he’s still working on it.

Marie hums agreement. "This was a good year. The last couple years it's sucked, so, umm, good timing, I guess?" She gives him a thumbs-up and a false grin, but both fall flat.

Nuriel leans back against the brick wall and crosses his feet at the ankles. Marie waves to her neighbor, who gives Nuriel a long look before returning inside his apartment.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Nuriel starts slowly. He tips his chin down and scratches at the back of his neck when Marie turns back to face him.

She tilts her head one way, then the other, only to finally shrug. “I don’t know that I’d say that. What makes you think so?”

“Apadiel didn’t talk to me for a day and a half after you left. She followed you into the hall, and when she came back, she wouldn’t talk to me.” He stops to think for a moment. “I did touch her computer, but I don’t think that was the cause of the problem.”

Marie’s eyes widen at the news, and then she nods, lowering her head and looking away.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “about that--”

He watches her intently while he talks. “If you tell me what I did,” he offers, “I’ll try not to do it again. I haven’t been to Earth in a very long time, so I understand if I--”

“Stop.” Marie holds up her hand, and Nuriel stops. His mouth hangs open for a moment before he closes it and waits for her to continue.

She pushes up the sleeve on her top and wraps her hand around her forearm, scratching at her skin. “When Padi turned up at my church, she had no one. She left everything behind her in Heaven, and then again when she left Hell. She was isolated and scared and I was all she had. For years. And then you just…” She lifts her hand, only to drop it again. They both watch the movement. “Right into her life. Suddenly she’s got real family.”

Marie pushes her hand back through her hair. She’s pacing on the little balcony now, but it’s only two or three steps until she has to turn again. Nuriel says nothing. He can tell there’s more coming.

“She used to be so angry with you, all of you.”

Marie pauses for a moment, lost in thought and memories. Nuriel can only imagine what she’s thinking about, the things that Apadiel would have said and felt. May still feel.

“But then she dives right into the harbor and hauls you out, and I come home to find you two talking like old friends.”

At this, Nuriel does interrupt. He pushes away from the wall and moves to stand in front of Marie. She lifts her eyes to look up at him, and they’re filled with uncertainty.

“Apadiel asked me about this earlier. The, umm, the talking.” He pauses, unsure how to continue, then takes a breath, having found his mental footing again. “There is no such thing as an angel of something, not in the way that it’s spoken of now. That said, some angels do have innate traits that are better suited for certain purposes, and my trait is that I can get people to talk, to open up. To confess things.”

“Wow.” Marie takes a step back away from him, leaning against the balcony railing. “And it works on other angels?”

Nuriels nods.

“Is it something you can control?” She asks, glancing nervously in to her apartment, currently filled with people in various states of inebriation.

This time his nod is less definitive. “I have to will it. If I’m standing beside two people, I can not make one confess his love to the other, even if it’s there and real, unless I want them to. Secrets don’t spill out of people because I enter a room.”

“So the other day, with Apadiel--”

“I really wanted her to talk to me,” he replies, but voice tinged with embarrassment at the admission. “And you, then… and now.”

Marie balks, glaring at him. “That’s manipulative, and frankly a little creepy.”

“I apologize,” he replies, lowering his head in a small bow. “If it’s any consolation, it was my plan all along to make you aware of this at some point during the evening.”

“Explanation isn’t the same as consolation,” she replies, looking away from him, into the apartment. “Is Padi still here?”

"Yes," he replies. "She was doing a trick with a cup when I left her. Gathering quite a crowd. I had hoped to be able to talk to her, but--"

"A trick?" Marie suspects she knows what he means.

Nuriel sighs, confused. "She was singing and tapping a rhythm with a plastic cup."

"Was she doing it in Enochian?" Marie asks flatly. She lowers her head and rubs at her eyes.

Nuriel nods. "Does she do that often?"

"It's her way of screwing with drunk people, since she can't get drunk like humans. She does Cups in Enochian and waits to see if anyone realizes she's not singing a language they understand." She looks past his shoulder in to the apartment. "How was it going?"

"Everyone was singing along in English. I don't think they noticed."

"Business as usual, then," Marie says with a smile.

"That competition that we watched," Nuriel starts, "what makes a person want to do that for a living?"

Marie ponders the question for a moment before answering. "They don't really do it for a living. Most of them have other jobs. This is something they do for fun, because it makes them happy. Because they want to compete, win for their country, that sort of thing. They're proud."

Nuriel nods along as she talks.

"What made you decide on your path?" he asks.

"You mean hunting?" she replies.

"I mean priesthood," he answers.

"Oh.” Marie settles into a chair tucked into the corner of the balcony and gestures to another nearby. “When I was a kid, we had a Christmas ceremony, end-of-term thing in a church. It's tradition, though they're starting to move away from it now."

"Why?"

"Because nowadays there are kids with lots of different faiths, and not all of them are comfortable doing things in a church. The Church of Sweden doesn't have the power it used to, so it can't keep them there, and there are other places available that can accommodate that kind of crowd."

She explains without a hint of bitterness, as if it was completely normal and acceptable for her that people would wander away from religion.

"Interesting," Nuriel says. "But you took part in one of these ceremonies?"  
Marie opens her mouth, then closes it again, squinting at him. “Are you doing your thing right now, to get me to tell you this?”

“Not at all,” Nuriel answers, shaking his head. “I appreciate that you’re talking to me, but it’s, umm, ‘turned off’, for the evening. And I promise not to use it again without your express consent.”

“Thank you,” Marie nods. "I had to check.”

“I understand,” he says, meeting her eyes. “I apologize, again, for earlier. I was desperate and disoriented. It won’t happen again.”

Marie clears her throat and smiles at him, nodding again. “Back to your question, because I actually do like talking about this. Ceremony really makes it sound too formal, but anyway we went, and the priest gave a sermon. It was the first time I'd ever seen one, and it was amazing. He was so gentle, but his words were so powerful. You could tell that he really believed that this man died so that we could all have a better life, and that he would come back and save us all. It was inspirational."

"He was very influential, this priest?"

Marie shrugs. "He was to me. I bought a Bible with my Christmas money, started reading it. My mom took me to the church to meet him, and he started teaching me. I thought the stories were amazing. I mean, as I got older I understood that a lot of it was parable, the book was written by men and is a product of the times, but still."

"So you don't believe?" Nuriel asks, confused.

Marie hesitates. "I believe in God, in Heaven and Hell. Now more than ever," she says, gesturing towards him. "But I also believe that humans evolved from apes. There's no reason the two can't be compatible, since clearly both are true."

Nuriel turns and looks back in through the window to the kitchen. "So Apadiel has helped you with your faith," he says. It's not really a question.

"Apadiel has helped me reconcile my beliefs with the facts that I know are true. The lessons of the Bible can be used for a lot of good, if properly applied."

Nuriel sits forward in his chair. "And this fits into your lifestyle as a hunter as well?"

"It fits into it the way that Apadiel and I do it." Marie thinks for a moment before continuing. "I don't know how she'd do it if I wasn't with her, if I'm honest. She can be brutal, but also incredibly kind. I don't want to give myself too much credit, but I think I make her more careful, more thoughtful."

"That's not giving yourself too much credit,” he replies. “Perhaps you facilitate that for her. I've seen you do it. She considers you before she makes most decisions, even if you aren't present."

Marie’s smile is warm, but private, as if she’s cataloguing Nuriel’s observation without responding to it.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “That’s… thank you.”

“I must tell you, you have very interesting features.” Nuriel is staring openly at Marie now. A blush spreads across her cheeks and she ducks her head.

“Really,” he says, reaching across the table and covering her hand with his own, “you are truly lovely.”

“Thank you,” she laughs. “I mean, I’m currently covered in glitter and too much eyeliner, but...I’ll pass the compliment along to my parents and their truly unexpected genetic combination.” Her laughter fades suddenly and she sighs. “Or rather, I can pass it along to my mother. To give my father the message, I think you’re the better messenger.”

“Your father is dead?” Nuriel asks.

Marie nods. “He was from Phuket. My mom met him while was on vacation. Fuck the stereotypes, she brought a Thai guy home with her and married him.”

Her mouth curves into a soft smile. “Every other Christmas after I got big enough, we went to Thailand.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, twining her fingers together tightly. “We were in Phuket in 2004. There was an earthquake.”

“A tsunami.” Nuriel fills in and Marie nods.

“They never found him.” She licks her lips and looks down at her hands.

“That’s why you were afraid of the water,” he says. Her brows furrow and her eyes flit up to meet his. “The night I fell, before I passed out, I could feel your fear. It was that strong.”

Marie looks away again, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “Padi just dove in, and I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no,” he replies. “You can’t help it. I understand. I’m very sorry about your father. When I go home, I will find him and tell him that he has a beautiful daughter.”

Marie wipes at her eyes and smiles. “You really are just dragging everything out of me tonight, aren’t you?” She asks with a laugh.

“You’re the first human I’ve met in a long time. I find you very interesting.” He moves forward in his seat and stretches out his hand towards her. “For what it’s worth, I haven’t exerted any influence on you since I told you about it.”

There is a noise below that interrupts them, the sound of a scuffle that makes them both stand and turn to look out over the courtyard again.

A young woman is standing with her back to the building, shaking her head and backing away from a man with a shaved head. He moves towards her menacingly, and the metal railing of the balcony starts to ring where Nuriel’s hands tighten it, wringing the noise out of it.

Marie grabs his wrist. “You’ve got to stay out of the spotlight right now. Don’t go be a hero.”

Nuriel frowns, but nods, turning his attention back to the scene below.

“I didn’t know,” the girl shouts. “I didn’t understand! I thought--”

He continues to advance on her, rounding his shoulders and scowling. “Everything that you’ve been given, and you refuse the one thing we would ask of you!”

He bellows so loudly that more people on more balconies turn to look. Even Marie’s raucous neighbor goes silent, his little Danish flag hanging limply from his hand.

“If you still need me, I can!” She begs. “This time, just, please.”

She stumbles backwards, landing hard on one knee and holding her hand out to protect herself.

The man looks up at the crowds gathering on the balconies. He’s tall and thin, and his hair is little more than a shadow on his skin, just long enough to show the sharp widow’s peak of his hairline.

“This is what happens to those who refuse the call,” he growls.

His eyes start of glow as he speaks. There is a flare of shadowy wings in the darkness, and Marie and Nuriel call for Apadiel in unison.

There is the crash of glass in the apartment, and Apadiel skids to a halt behind them on the balcony just in time to take in the flash of light.

For a moment the white crystals hold the shape of the pleading girl, before collapsing on themselves into a formless pile. The angel is gone.


	5. Chapter 5

"You have a very unusual outlook on the monster population here," Nuriel says, looking out over the pews. The church is quiet this time of day, with only a couple of tourists pointing at the altar and whispering, and an older man seated in the far corner quietly reading.

"We have the same policy as the Swedish government. You're welcome as long as you don't cause trouble." Apadiel's eyes sweep over the roof of the church before landing on Nuriel again. "Most 'monsters' want a normal life. They hunt and kill because they have to, because they're forced to the outskirts by what they are. But these people." She shakes her head and gestures down towards the nearly-empty pews. "It's not that they don't care. They care a lot about the people around them. But they're very private, and they care about other people's privacy, too. It's none of their business why their teacher is out sick once a month. It's nothing to do with them if their co-worker is pale as death and prefers to work the night shift. So it's not that they don't care. It's just not their place to ask. It's amazing in a way."

"And you?" he asks. "How do you stay under the radar?"

Apadiel shrugs. "I look like everyone else. I don't do anything unusual in public, walk around with my wings hanging out or whatever. I act like a regular person."

"No one notices that you don't work?"

“I work very hard, thank you very much," she shoots back. "A whole lot harder lately,” she adds with a sigh.

Nuriel gives her a critical look. "I mean, how do you pay for things?"

"With a credit card that has no balance and no limit," she explains. "I do my best not to interfere, but that is a luxury I afford myself. I'm not ruining the world's economy of living past what would theoretically be my means, I guess, but I am living on intangible money."

Nuriel gapes at her. "You could do so much good with that money!"

"I do more than enough good without money,” she replies. “I save humans from monsters, and monsters from humans. Am I really expected to save them from their self-made economic disasters, too? Would that teach them anything?"

At that Nuriel is silent for a moment. The tourists turn to take a photo of the organ and wave politely to the two of them. Apadiel gives them a patronizing smile and shifts off to one side. Nuriel follows her obediently.

"So you hunt, but only the monsters that step out of line,” he continues. “And as payment for this, you gave yourself an unlimited supply of money."

"That sums it up very nicely, actually. Yeah."

They tromp down the narrow staircase and emerge out into the sunshine. Nuriel turns his face up to the sun and smiles while Apadiel digs a pair of large sunglasses out of her bag.

"Come on, we're gonna be late," she says, starting off out of Domkyrkan's courtyard towards Brunnsparken.

"Late for what?"

"We've got a meeting with someone who might be able to help us with our little problem."

Nuriel's brow furrows. "Little problem?"

"Umm, yes. Angels, falling all over my city, prowling for vessels and making me really uneasy? Turned a girl into a pillar of salt in full view of a bunch of people over the weekend? It's a problem."

It's crowded for midday as they jostle through the park, past the street vendors and beggars. Change slips from Nuriel's hand down into every cup and hat he passes, hurrying to keep up with Apadiel.

"Who are we meeting?"

"Lucas,” she explains, back over her shoulder. “He doesn't know we're coming, but he's there every day this time, so I know I can find him."

"And Lucas is...?"

"Oh," Apadiel sighs, "Lucas is a demon. Fancies himself very powerful, and very old, and yet he insists on hanging around the train station like a bum."

Nuriel stops in his tracks. "There are demons in this city?"

Apadiel grabs his wrist and pulls him across the street. "You are gonna get hit by a tram if you keep that up, and when the tram shatters, your cover's gonna be blown."

"Apadiel." His voice goes deep and resonant.

"What? Yes, there are demons in the city," she answers. "There is everything in this city. That's part of what makes it so awesome. It's a sort of symbiosis."

"And yet you think you should be the only angel."

"Yep," she answers curtly, eyes scanning the crowd as soon as the automatic doors part. They're a stark modern contrast to the stone walls and wooden ceiling of the older part of Gothenburg's central train station. The door is flanked by a health food store and the city's only Starbucks, followed by a sushi restaurant and another local chain café.

"You should really give us a chance. We can also blend in," he argues as he pushes his way past business travelers with rolling suitcases and teenage girls with frozen coffee drinks.

Apadiel sighs, stopping at the intersection of the indoor walkways. "But you can't. Angels stick out. You're not so bad, but I can only imagine what the others will get up to. What if I find one proselytizing on a corner? You can't do that in Sweden. It'll get you all the wrong kinds of attention." 

She shakes her head, then starts off into the crowd again, this time with purpose. She reaches out and drops her hand onto the shoulder of a proper-looking young man with short blonde hair in a button-down shirt and jeans. As soon as her hand makes contact, he closes his eyes, covering them with his hand.

"Lucas, darling."

"Apadiel," he purrs, stepping off to the side, out of the way of traffic. "Long time no see. To what do I owe the ambush?"

A grin slides over Apadiel's face. "Ambush is such a strong word. I thought you liked our little chats."

Lucas stiffens. His eyes are still closed, but he turns to face Nuriel. "There are two of you? Apadiel, what the hell is going on? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to conduct business when there are angels all over?"

"Is he blind?" Nuriel asks, leaning towards Apadiel.

"No," Lucas answers. "I'm also not deaf. Problem is, as long as Padi here as her hand on my shoulder–"

"His eyes go red, and stay red,” Apadiel finishes for him, still grinning smugly. “Lucas here is a crossroads demon, swapping souls for trains getting in on time. How the mighty have fallen."

Lucas heaves a harsh sigh. "Are we going to stand here all day talking about me? I mean, I love talking about me, but the whole eye thing, y'know."

Apadiel hums sympathetically. "What do you say we get a cup of coffee and talk about the problems plaguing this fair city, just like any two citizens. Have a nice chat about politics."

He considers for a moment, then nods. "Starbucks. You pay."

"Agreed,” Apadiel answers with a nod of her own. “Come on, then. Walk with me.”

She slides her hand down his arm and gives his wrist a squeeze before letting go.

"You run, and I will find you,” she warns him.

They walk together back the way they’d come. Apadiel sends Nuriel up the stairs with Lucas, coming up shortly after with a tray laden with mugs. She sets a large mug with a tea bag in it down in front of Nuriel and takes the black coffee for herself. Lucas’ mug is the largest size, overflowing with whipped cream and some sort of sugar crystals on top.

The upper floor is empty but for the three of them, grouped together in leather armchairs around a low, square table. Three of the walls are glass, allowing a clear view of the walkway below, and the sidewalk outside the station. 

“Now this is how you do a bribe,” Lucas says, eyes going wide as he pulls the mug towards himself. “Extra syrup?”

Apadiel nods and rolls her eyes. “Cost me a fortune. Don’t spill it on yourself.” She turns to Nuriel. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got green tea.”

Nuriel nods and picks up the mug. “I’m not sure what I wanted either, so this is probably fine.”

Apadiel leans back in her armchair and crosses her legs, levelling her gaze at Lucas. “So, what do you know about angels?”

Nuriel glances around nervously, but the upper floor of the café is empty. 

Lucas smirks from behind his mug and wipes at his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t worry, kid. We won’t be disturbed while we’re up here.”

“My name is Nuriel,” he replies stonily.

“Okay.” Lucas holds his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Nuriel. I’m guessing you fell along with _almost_ all the others?” He nods at Apadiel, putting emphasis on the word.

Nuriel nods, but Apadiel speaks first. “One of them turned up at a party in Biskop over the weekend, and turned a girl into salt. Shouting something about ‘refusing a call’.”

Lucas nods, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. “I heard about that. Apparently everything was cleaned up by the time any authority managed to stop by.”

Apadiel pops her eyebrows at him. “I work fast. So, you heard anything about this call?”

“Vessels,” Lucas replies. “You guys have to ask nicely, get consent, that whole bit.” He waves his hands at their bodies. “It’s not proving easy for all of them, and apparently--” He gestures to Apadiel, “some of them are holding a grudge against people that say no.”

“How do you know this?” Nuriel asks, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Lucas shrugs. “I hear things, talk to people and beings that are not people when they pass through. Hell is in all kinds of commotion about the fall. You know that scene in the Matrix sequel, the party in Zion? It’s like that. I’m considering taking a vacation to go down there, it’s that good.”

Nuriel starts to lunge over the table at him, but Apadiel grabs his arm and pushes him back down into his seat. She understands his frustration, and Lucas is clearly baiting him, but attacking him will not help.

“Filth,” Nuriel growls at him. “They’ll never let you back out.”

“Bird brain,” Lucas spits back with a predatory grin. “Do you have any idea how many souls I rake in here?”

“Stop!” Apadiel holds her hands up, silencing both of them. 

Her phone beeps and she sighs, lowering her hands and pulling it out of her pocket.

She reads the message, nodding to herself.

“Okay,” she says, looking up at both of them, still glaring at each other from their respective corners, “we’re done here. You, enjoy your coffee, and your vacation or whatever.” She stands and turns to Nuriel. “You are coming with me.”

Lucas settles deeper into his chair, picking up his mug again. He wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave when Nuriel moves past him to follow Apadiel down the stairs.

“You might want to consider starting by thinking about how you got your vessels to say yes,” he calls after them, not turning around. “Poor bastards can’t be that unique that it won’t work on someone else.”

Nuriel storms outside, squinting against the bright afternoon sun. Apadiel follows after him at a leisurely pace, letting him work off some of his frustration.

“How can you let him live?” Nuriel asks, rounding on her in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Whoa!” Apadiel holds her hands out, palms towards Nuriel. “Keep your voice down.”

“They are corrupt and evil. They will lie and cheat you every chance they get,” he hisses, pointing back up towards the window.

Apadiel glances back over her shoulder. Lucas is smiling down at them. He tilts his head before turning away.

“Nuriel, look. I know you think they’re evil. But they used to be human. They got all their humanity tortured out of them. They’ve forgotten what they used to be. That’s all.”

She waves her hand around, gesturing to the people hurrying past them, to and from the train station. “It could happen to any one of these people, depending on the choices they make in their lives.”

“How can you have sympathy for them?” He snaps, his face pulling into an ugly scowl.

Apadiel lifts her pendant up from where it lay hidden inside her shirt. “Because I’ve seen them being made,” she answers, pain creeping uninvited into her voice. “They don’t remember it, but all but the worst of them went screaming and begging for mercy. And Lucas is not one of the worst. He’s just a regular grade asshole. I know how to deal with them without a blade.”

Nuriel deflates a little at that, sending one last dark look up at the now-empty window before turning away.

“What was the message?” He asks when they’ve moved closer to the street.

“It was Marie,” she replies, waving her hand in front of the crosswalk signal impatiently. “Apparently this angel business isn’t enough. We have actual monster hunting to do tonight. A vampire.”

“I can come.” This time Nuriel looks both ways before stepping out into the street. Apadiel considers telling him that this street is one-way, but thinks better of it. Let him be too cautious.

“No, you really can’t.” She shakes her head, guiding him towards the bus stop that will lead them back to the island. “You’re going to go home and sit quietly and think about how you got your vessel to say yes.”

“I know how I got him to say yes,” Nuriel protests. “I can help with this hunt. Please.”

“I would rather you didn’t,” Apadiel answers. 

He huffs and shifts his weight, and she can see the ‘why’ in his eyes. 

He is not a child. He does not need to be coddled, but he almost attacked one of her more important sources earlier, and she can’t have him jumping the gun and upsetting the entire vampire population in the city. Not now.

“I need a break,” she says, finally, when Nuriel refuses to leave her. “From this.” She motions to him, which does nothing to make him more understanding.

“Apadiel--”

“I need to take a night and hunt a vampire with my best friend and pretend that all this is not happening.” She motions towards Nuriel as if he is the embodiment of every angel that might be roaming the city.

Nuriel frowns and looks away, and Apadiel regrets it immediately, but it’s the truth, and he deserves the truth, even if it’s not what he wants to hear.

“Is there enough money on this for me to take the boat?” he asks, holding up her bus card.

“Yeah,” she answers with a weak smile. “That’ll get you home.”

“It’ll get me back to your apartment,” he corrects her. “It’s going to take a lot more than a little plastic card to get me _home_.”

With that he turns and leaves her, striding off in the direction of the dock. Apadiel pauses for a moment, feels his Grace receding until he disappears around a corner. Then she turns and walks in the opposite direction, towards Marie’s church. He will be fine.

Apadiel pushes both doors open, leaning heavily against them while the sunlight slants in behind her.

“Do I look like a king yet?” She calls out to Marie where she’s sitting in one of the pews.

Marie leans out into the aisle and looks her over. “Needs more blood,” she answers before returning to her paperwork. “And dirt.”

She gathers up the papers and stands when Apadiel lets the doors swing closed and strolls up to the front of the church. She stretches out on the narrow bench. It's too small, really; half of her hangs precariously over the side, so she balances by slinging a leg up over the back of the pew and twisting to look at Marie.

"Could you maybe not while the church is open?" she asks, shuffling papers and making her way towards the altar.

Apadiel shrugs. "I promise to sit up if anyone else makes their way here and comes in."

"I do get parishioners here on occasion," Marie reminds here, arching an eyebrow up under bangs. "Doesn't it bother you, being so nonchalant in a house of the Lord?"

"He's gone.” She keeps talking over Marie’s disappointed tutting. “He won't notice. And these pews are impossible to sit on for more than ten minutes.” Apadiel glances at Marie and arches an eyebrow. “It's almost like they're _designed_ to make people uncomfortable. Now there's an idea."

Marie sighs. "Why did you come by?"

"I like the atmosphere, and the company." Apadiel stares up at the painted ceiling. “And I may have needed some time away from Nuriel after taking him into town today. He wanted to come with us later. I told him no.”

"Have you figured out what you're going to do yet?"

"I sent some emails to some of the others in Norway, Denmark, even a couple of Finns. No one’s heard of anyone getting turned to salt yet."

Marie grimaces and sucks a breath in through her teeth. "You really are desperate to get them out of the city if you're writing to Timmo."

Apadiel pushes a hand through her hair and sighs. "They can't stay here. They will ruin everything."

"I don't know," Marie admits, "they've been pretty quiet so far."

“You call that display this weekend quiet?” Apadiel arches an eyebrow in Marie’s direction.

Marie shrugs. “It’s one angel. We don’t even know how many there are. Did you find out anything about him? What he was shouting about?”

Apadiel nods. "They can't find vessels. There are way more of them than we've seen, and it looks like some of them are pissed that humans are saying no.”

She pulls out her phone and swipes it open, tapping to open some notes she’d taken earlier. “I took a detour before I came to see you. That idiot podcast preacher has some kind of following here, apparently. I did some checking, and it seems to be based around Smyrnakyrkan."

Marie frowns in thought. "Over by Hagakyrkan? That church? The big one?"

Apadiel hums in agreement, swinging her legs over and sitting up, elbows resting on her knees. "They livestream it from the US, and he's big on 'accepting the grace of the Host' and getting people to consent to being vessels. I can't believe it's working."

"How did you do it?" Marie asks gently. Her papers go quiet and she looks over at Apadiel with anxious curiosity.

"Do what?" Apadiel’s eyes don’t leave her phone.

"Get her to say yes to you,” Marie replies. “You did have to get her consent, right?"

Apadiel is still for a moment, looking down at her hands. "Yeah, I had to get her consent. She wasn't even that religious," she says, drifting back into the memory.

Marie moves around to the front of the altar and leans back against it. "So, what did you tell her? It might help, if we can think like they're thinking, getting Swedes to consent to possession."

Apadiel's expression darkens at the word choice, but Marie stands her ground.

"She was special, a special circumstance,” Apadiel replies. “We made an... arrangement."

Marie's eyes widen. "You made a deal with your vessel?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Apadiel replies. "'Keep my family safe', 'promise me I'll get into Heaven', 'give me a son'. Everyone wants something in exchange for their yes."

"What did she want?"

"Breasts," Apadiel says plainly. Marie cocks her head to one side and her eyes sweep over Apadiel's figure as she stands and starts to pace in front of the pews.

"She wanted, what, bigger breasts? Really? All the things a girl can ask for, and–"

"She didn’t always have this body." The words come out of Apadiel in a rush, and Marie goes silent. "But she wanted to. She wanted a new body. Breasts, hips, all the... everything. That was her condition."

"And you gave it to her, even though she's never going to be able to enjoy it."

Apadiel turns to face Marie, throwing her arms out to the sides. "This body is tailor-made after her specifications, and I promised no changes after I took over. She was thrilled when she saw it."

"I didn't know you could do that," Marie says softly. "And it's all in working order?"

"Did you ever notice anything out of place?" Apadiel asks with a smirk. Marie flushes, then looks away.

"I'm sorry," Apadiel continues. "That was. I apologize. I'm just very proud of this,” she gestures to herself. “It was a gift for her. She cried when she saw it. It was very important to her."

Marie nods but keeps her gaze fixed on the stained glass window off to her left. "You take good care of it. She would be grateful. A lot of people have a much longer and harder struggle to get to that point.”

They're both silent for a moment. Apadiel clears her throat and the sound echoes in the empty space.

"But yeah, that's not a tactic that's gonna work for a lot other angels," Marie finally offers, and Apadiel nods when Marie turns to look at her. "Are there any other, I don't know, classic tactics that would appeal to Swedes?"

Apadiel thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "The offer of salvation, promise of the Heaven-like afterlife of your choice, that would get you far with the right crowd, but then they also have to be suitable vessels. An angel in the wrong vessel is going to degrade and corrupt the flesh, if they don't just succumb on the spot."

"Succumb?" Marie asks with a grimace.

"Nice way of saying explode," Apadiel replies with a weak smile. "I saw it once, long time ago. It's not pretty, and an especially unfortunate way for one of the faithful to die."

"That's horrible,” Marie says, wrinkling her nose. “How do you prevent it?"

"By getting a vessel as close to your 'true vessel' as possible. There are good bloodlines for vessels, they can be traced back, blah blah boring biblical genealogy lesson. I was never good that sort of stuff. Vessel-making was mostly for the cherubs."

Apadiel attempts to illustrate in the air, waving her hands in something that, to her, resembles a family tree.

"So they'll be looking for certain people," Marie fills in. "Any way of knowing who a particular angel will be looking for?"

Apadiel shakes her head. "The angel knows, but that's it. And good luck getting them to tell us. No, that's a dead end."

"So they could theoretically head off somewhere else looking for a vessel?" Marie asks, a little hope in her voice.

Apadiel purses her lips, then sighs. "They'll take first best if it comes to it, and then use that vessel until they can find a stronger one. They can be parasitic if they have to. Another reason I want them out of here."

"Did you get any answers back from the other hunters yet?"

Apadiel nods, rolling her eyes up to look at the ceiling again. "They're all pissed at me like I did it, and they all want answers I can't give them, and none of them really want more angels, but they promised not to hurt any that turn up."

"Can they hurt them?" Marie asks. "I thought you said–"

"I have yet to explain that detail to them," Apadiel admits, looking at her phone again. "So far only Timmo has tried to kill one."

Marie scoffs. "He would."

"Yeah. And he had no success with that endeavor, other than a confused and angry angel."

“You have to tell them before anyone gets seriously hurt, Padi.”

The look she gives Apadiel is stern, too matronly for someone her age. Apadiel gives her a small nod and swipes open her phone again.

They spend the rest of the afternoon together in the quiet of the church. The light outside dims, and eventually Marie emerges from the sacristy dressed for a night out, a backpack slung over one arm.

“You ready to do this?” She asks.

“Do I have a choice?” Apadiel replies. Helping integrate wayward monsters is one of the only things that makes her feel useful, but she had hoped that the entire monster population of Sweden would take a break while she dealt with the angels.

She follows Marie back up the aisle of the church, and they head out into the evening, to the bar where Marie’s tip said that the vampire had been hanging the last three days.


	6. Chapter 6

Sticky Fingers is exactly the sort of place a person imagines when they are told that that's the name of the club. Three floors with various levels of raunchiness, back-lit bars, and a live stage on the ground floor. It's quiet, not much of a crowd turning out to see a sleaze rock concert on a Wednesday night. At the bar Apadiel and Marie are beside each other, but far enough away that it’s not clear that they’re together. The spot affords them a view of the door as well as the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. 

It's been a couple of hours so far, people coming, drinking, leaving, but no sign of the vampire that Marie had gotten a call about. Apadiel is starting to suspect that someone else may have already found him. There were other vampires in the city that would be more than willing to make sure their own cover wasn't blown.

An upbeat song about prostitution ends and the small but enthusiastic crowd erupts in applause and shouts, none of which Apadiel can understand, but there’s no accounting for taste. Marie peels herself off of her barstool and heads towards the door without a backwards glance, shrugging on a short leather jacket and digging through her bag distractedly as she walks. Apadiel watches her go. It’s a change in their plan, but after hours with no movement, she’s open to trying a new tactic if it can draw the vampire out.

Apadiel watches as a tall, willowy man materializes out of the crowd and disappears through the door after her. He's pale, with greasy, unkempt hair and a hungry look in his eyes.

He's also lacking a heartbeat. Apadiel feels a familiar knot that forms in her stomach whenever a hunt involves actual danger. She knows that Marie can take care of herself; she’s done this longer than Apadiel, but still, the urge to protect her is there. She doubts it was Marie’s father that taught her to always act as bait, and part of her can’t help but wonder what made the monster pick this particular girl walking out alone.

Not that it matters, really. If anything, it’s better, having him go after someone who’s prepared rather than any of the dozen other single women that had come and gone since they arrived at the club.

"Time to go to work," Apadiel sighs. She sets her glass down on the bar and nods to the bartender before leaving. She's dressed simply in a long black top and jeans that disappear down into her boots, a pair of Doc Martens that come up to the middle of her calves. It’s the same outfit she had on earlier for her meeting with Lucas, and she’s glad that it fit the atmosphere, even if she felt out of place in the crowd.

She smiles at the coat room attendant, tapping her nails anxiously on the countertop while he digs out her coat. She flashes him a smile and leans a crumpled twenty crown bill as a tip as she slips her coat on and heads out into the night.

Apadiel rounds the corner and ducks into the side street behind the club. Filled with specialty shops and cafés, it's deserted this time of night, except for where Marie is leaned against a wall smoking, and the tall man is aggressively flirting with her.

"Look, it's not that I'm not interested, it's just that I really only came out to smoke, okay?" Marie says. The lit cigarette hangs loosely between her fingers, glowing orange in the otherwise dark street. She tries to take a step back, but he rests his arm on the brick wall and leans in, trapping her between him and the wall.

Apadiel’s eyes narrow, and the knot in her stomach lights like a fuse. He’s a step above the average run of the mill creep, but his methods are the same, and it makes her skin crawl. Some pretty words and a little isolation, and he thinks he can get whatever he wants from her. This time it just happens to be blood.

"You smell amazing," he purrs, and even at a distance Apadiel can see his fangs slip down to cover his otherwise normal front teeth. He hisses softly and opens his mouth wide as Marie presses her back up against the wall.

Marie looks up at him, and her expression changes rapidly from faux terror to bored and uninterested. She ashes the cigarette near his shoes. "Thanks,” she replies. “It's the latest, called _Vital Signs_ , Twilight."

They hadn’t agreed upon a signal beforehand, but Apadiel figures that this is as good a moment as any to get down to business. Apadiel clears her throat, loud enough for it to echo in the narrow street. Her angel blade is cold and heavy in her hand, flashing like flame under the streetlights.

"Hey asshole, you want to leave the lady alone?"

The vampire’s head snaps up and he sneers at Apadiel. She grins in return. He’s hungry, which makes him stupid and reckless, and will make this that much easier.

Apadiel rushes them both, boots scraping against the gritty pavement.The vampire grabs for Marie, but she ducks out of the way as Apadiel smashes his head up against the wall, pinning him with her body. He's taller than she is, but she's heavier, and undoubtedly stronger. He snarls and struggles in her grip, spitting out slurred obscenities from behind his fangs, but it’s a quick fight. He’s no match for her, and he figures it out soon enough, making his shows of defiance a bit hollow.

"What, not used to getting your ass kicked by a girl?” Apadiel quips. “Come on, get yourself straightened out, we're gonna go see Bruce."

"Stupid hunter bitch!" he hisses, and she whacks his head into the bricks again.

"Watch your mouth," she replies before heaving him away from the wall and marching him back towards the main street. She flashes her blade at him demonstratively. "This is better than a machete, and if you're not nice, I will cut your fucking head off and mail it to your mother. Don't think I won't."

She’s more aggressive than she needs to be, but it feels good. It feels normal. She can work, make a difference, and -- though the spitting, swearing vampire in her grip doesn’t realize it -- she can even help. No complicated planning, no concern about how her presence will be perceived. No confusing sense of camaraderie with the very creatures she’s trying to drive away. This is what she knows and understands. This she can control.

He hisses again, and this time Apadiel rolls her eyes. “Okay, you know what. That’s enough, come on.”

She bends his arm up behind his back and continues hauling him up the alleyway, glancing back over her shoulder at Marie, who is now hurrying to keep up with them.

"You okay?" Apadiel can’t see any injuries, but Marie is clutching her bag to her body and walking slowly.

"These cigarettes are awful," she mutters, flicking the butt into a puddle by the curb. "I don't know why I always think smoking is a good idea. Next time I think smoking is good, remind me that people go outside to make calls, too."

They come to the corner and Apadiel stops. A group of girls are standing huddled near the door to the club, chatting and laughing. She waits, but they’re not going anywhere. One of them lights a cigarette, another checks her phone.

"Can do," Apadiel replies distractedly, looking at Marie again. 

The vampire shifts in her grip, so she wrenches his arm up further behind his back until he's standing on his toes. "Now now, don't get jealous just because I'm talking to other girls."

"I'm gonna rip your throat out," he growls.

"Oh man, Bruce is gonna love you," she sighs.

They turn the corner again, this time walking past the entrance to the club. The girls stop and turn, but the doorman gives Apadiel a knowing nod. He works with Bruce, and had in all likelihood been the one to send the message to Marie earlier today. 

“Bit too much to drink,” Apadiel calls out to the girls. “And some kind of pill, I think? We’re gonna get him cleaned up, don’t you worry.”

The girls watch the trio, hunters and vampire, with a mix of suspicion and rubbernecking fascination. They close ranks and collectively decide to go back in to the concert. One lingers a little longer than the others, until someone calls her name from inside the club, and she ducks inside.

Next door to the club is a music store. It’s a little run-down, stand-alone sort of place, more famous for the eclectic personnel than any particular specialty. But it has an excellent reputation, known to be a supplier to pretty much every major act that comes to the city, and the chances of bumping into a celebrity on any given day are high.

Tonight, however, it’s deserted, closed for the evening. There’s a light on on the upper floor, and an open window that tells Apadiel that there’s still someone inside.

"Hey Bruce, is this one of yours?" Apadiel calls as she fishes the key out of her pocket. The vampire grumbles and struggles weakly in her grip, swearing under his breath.

Marie gives his shoulder a shove. "We're doing you a favor," she says gently. "We could dump you on the boat to Denmark. You know what happens to vampires in Denmark?"

The vampire frowns, and Marie nods. "Exactly."

Apadiel's key clicks in the lock and she pushes open the door with a hip. The front windows of the store are all but covered with guitars, amplifiers, and advertisements. A lamp flickers to life at the top of the stairs at the back of the shop, past the glass counter and a row of cabinets filled with pedals.

The stairs creak, and a short, heavy-set man with fluffy but thinning hair and extremely pale skin makes his way down into the room. He takes in the scene before him and sighs as he leans against the railing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Never seen him before,” Bruce says, nodding towards the vampire.

"Talk," Apadiel says, giving the vampire a shake. Now that the adrenaline’s running out of her system, she just wants him to cooperate so that she can leave. 

He hisses and bares his teeth, and she copies him mockingly.

"He's got an accent,” Marie offers. “You sure you haven't seen him?"

"Would you listen to the man?" The vampire protests. Marie leans back against the counter and watches him, machete dangling from her fingers. "He's got a Liverpool accent. I'm Irish."

Bruce groans and rubs a hand over his face. "You lot? The travelers, camped at the north end of the island, repaving all the posh folks' driveways?"

The vampire nods, suddenly more compliant now that he’s with someone who knows something about him. "Name's James."

"You get us in trouble every damn year." He sighs and turns to Apadiel. "You can leave him with me. I'll get him straightened up, go out to the camp tomorrow and explain to 'em what's what, so they can keep their noses clean until they move on."

Apadiel hands James off with perhaps more force than necessary, letting Bruce grab him by the collar.

"You understand that's an angel, right?" he says to James, who gives him a look of disbelief. "A proper angel, all the way from Heaven and everything. This is her city, and she likes it quiet. She'll let you stay so long as you don't cause trouble."

James’ eyes widen a little, and Apadiel gives him a cheeky half-smile. "Told ya. You know he tried to fang Marie?"

"Did you set her up as bait?" Bruce fires back, not without warmth.

"That is completely besides the point," Marie answers, flipping a fat guitar pick between her fingers.

“Looks like he did more than try.” Bruce nods towards Marie. “Smells like it, too. You look a bit grey, love. No wonder you’re having such a time controlling him.”

Bruce’s words hiss out of his mouth as his own fangs slip down to cover what’s left of the rest of his teeth.

“Best see to her,” he says. He’s staring openly now, and while Apadiel knows that he has immaculate self-control, she’s not about to take any chances.

Apadiel turns to look at Marie, who gives her a weak shrug and lifts her left arm, letting the other fall away from where it’s covering her stomach.

“I figured it could wait,” she says weakly. There’s a slash across her stomach, and the edges of the tear in her top are dark with blood.

Apadiel clicks her tongue and moves to stand in front of her. The looks she gives Marie is one of concern and gentle scolding. She holds her hand over Marie’s stomach, a light flaring between the two of them for a moment. When Apadiel lowers her hand, Marie’s stomach is healed, the skin smooth and unbroken.

“No bleeding around vampires. You know better,” she tells Marie, giving her shoulder a squeeze before leaving her.

Apadiel wheels around and advances towards James, punching him hard in the mouth. His head snaps back and he tries to go after her, but Bruce stops him.

“Bitch!” He shouts, lashing out at her from around Bruce’s arm.

“Yup,” Apadiel nods.

“Bitch that could’ve killed you and didn’t.” Bruce’s tone is still level, even a little bored when he starts moving back towards the stairs, keeping James in front of him. "You ladies want some tea? Whiskey? I think I’ll have to feed this one before I let him go."

"Thanks," Apadiel answers, "but we're just gonna head home, Enough excitement for one night and all that. James, I can't say it was a pleasure, but you're in good hands now. Listen to him, okay?"

"Okay, _angel_ ," James calls as he heads up the stairs.

Apadiel makes to go after him, but Marie steps into her path. "No," she says firmly, planting a hand on Apadiel's stomach.

"He said the thing," Apadiel whines.

"I know, Padi, but I'm tired, recently bleeding, and I want to go somewhere I can drink with no shoes on. Come on."

Apadiel tosses a glance back over her shoulder as they head back out of the shop. Marie grabs her sleeve and pulls her along out the door.

“You sure you’re okay?” Apadiel asks, leaning forward as she walks to look down at Marie.

“I’m good now,” Marie answers. “I liked this top, though.” She pulls it out away from her stomach and looks down at it, tutting.

“You want a ride home?”

Marie starts to shake her head, but Apadiel stops, turning so that she’s standing in front of Marie, making it clear that she has no intention of taking a no for an answer.

“Why do you even ask?” Marie sighs, smiling up at her.

“Because the first time I did it,” she starts, wrapping her hand around Marie’s upper arm, “I didn’t ask, and you puked when we landed.”

The scene shifts, and they find themselves in front of Apadiel’s building. Apadiel swears through gritted teeth, and her grip on Marie’s shoulder tightens until her knuckles go white.

“Why do you do that?” Marie asks, helping her towards the door. She twists her arm until Apadiel lets go.

Apadiel groans. “Pent up angely power stuff,” she sighs. “It’s complicated.”

It wasn’t always complicated. Flying used to be easy. Think of a place and be there. But now her wings are in terrible condition and she knows it, feels it every time she uses them. But she won’t stop. Pain is a part of her everyday, and after a night like this, she’d need to soar, if only a second. Hunter is good, but angel is better. James had meant it as an insult, and she had taken it as one, but there in the music store, they’d both been wrong.

The two of them pile into the elevator, Apadiel hissing when her back strikes the wall.

Marie meets her eyes in their reflections. “Who’s gonna fix you up?” She asks, skeptical but concerned. She knows Apadiel’s wings bother her, knows that there’s nothing to be done for it, either.

“I’ll be fine,” Apadiel answers, letting her head drop back against the elevator wall. She’s exhausted, but pleased that they’d been able to get the vampire to Bruce with a minimum of trouble. He’d take good care of the new guy.

Apadiel steps out of the elevator and grabs at her door handle. The door doesn’t budge. 

“Not good.” She glances back over her shoulder at Marie before pulling her keys out of her pocket.

Marie cocks her head to the side. “Not good that the door is locked?”

“I sent Nuriel home hours ago,” she explains as she opens the door, letting Marie in first.

“Maybe he locked it behind him?” She suggests as she toes off her shoes. “Angel-hopped in without opening the door?”

Apadiel hums agreement, pushing the bathroom door open slowly. She doesn’t believe for a moment that that’s what happened, but it’s an optimistic theory.

“Can I borrow a t-shirt?” Marie calls from her bedroom.

“Yeah,” Apadiel answers distractedly, moving into the main room.

It’s quiet. Fuffens hasn’t come to greet them, which isn’t all that unusual. The lack of other angel in the apartment is a far more pressing concern, and Apadiel scolds herself for being so abrupt with him earlier, thinking that he would be fine on his own. Just because he seemed to be coping didn't mean that he actually was, but she'd been too wrapped up in trying to get rid of him to consider the idea that he'd pick up on it and leave before she was ready.

She's surprised to find that she's worried about him. That she misses him, already, after so short a stay in her life.

Marie emerges from her bedroom in an oversized t-shirt. She sees Apadiel’s expression and stops still in the hallway.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance that Nuriel was in there watching you change?” Apadiel asks, voice flat and laced with pessimism.

“I-- What? No. I hope not. No.” Marie gapes and backtracks, looking into the room again. “No,” she repeats. “There’s no one in here.”

Marie moves through the kitchen, picking out a glass and filling it with water from the tap.

“Did you see him get on the bus?” She asks back over her shoulder. She’s more concerned for Apadiel than she is for Nuriel right now, unaccustomed to this level of distress in her friend.

“He was gonna take the boat,” Apadiel replies, opening the door to the balcony and looking out.

The international ferry terminal is brightly lit and will be all night. The restaurant on the pier is still open. She can see couples sitting at tables on the upper floor, and the white leather sofas that fill the lower floor are still packed with people. But none of them are Nuriel. She's certain, somehow. She'd know if he was close by, and he's not.

The tall ship Götheborg is docked at home for the time being, sleeping quietly snugged up to the closer pier. A glorious construction of dark, glossy wood and vibrantly colored paints, it's a replica of a ship that sank, so close to home that the sailors could see it.

“Where are you?” She says into the night, filled with a terrible, sinking feeling she’s come to associate with every miscalculation she’s ever made.

“Did you give him a cell phone?” Marie calls from inside the apartment.

Apadiel shakes her head. “Didn’t think he’d need it. Didn’t have the… patience to show him how to use it.”

_Figured I could do it later_ , she thinks to herself.

She sighs heavily and combs her fingers back through her hair, leaving them tangled with her arms over her head.

“Is there anything we can do about it tonight?” Marie asks.

Apadiel shakes her head. “He’s smart enough to be able to last the night, but tomorrow I gotta go out and look for him. He knows which church is yours. If he turns up--”

“I’ll let you know," she says, leaning against Apadiel as she continues to stare out at the river, as if she could bring Nuriel back by sheer force of will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one while I try to get my mojo back for this story. Thanks for continuing to read! <3


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